


Holy Spirits

by HammieSlice, OneWhoTurns



Category: Oxenfree (Video Game)
Genre: (and also maybe eventually the other sort too), (one of the benefits is PINING), 20-somethings in Portland, Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers, Alex has an unhealthy relationship with intimacy, Anxiety, Bartenders, Criminal Past, Drama, Drinking Games, Drunken Kissing, Emotional Vulnerability, Everyone is Bisexual, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Jonalex end game, Jonas/f!OC and Jonas/m!OC exes and hookups, Literal Sleeping Together, Medium Burn, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Some masochism, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, a fair amount of Texting banter, no step-sib relationship, not SUPER graphic depictions of violence but still, rom com turned, smut dabbling 22-24, some Alex/f!OC, the anxiety of growing up, unhealthy side relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2020-10-12 10:37:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 102,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HammieSlice/pseuds/HammieSlice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoTurns/pseuds/OneWhoTurns
Summary: The first time they meet, Alex is on break from go-go night at a club called the Island, covered in glitter, trying to score free drinks off a too-hot stoic bartender in a dive bar. Jonas is behind the bar at the Kanaloa, less than thrilled to be flirted with by a manic pixie dream girl who screamsentitledfrom a mile away. By the next morning Alex is 70% sure she has a guardian angel. First impressions (and second, and third) can be deceiving. [the Jonalex bartender AU]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More notes at the end, but for now: Welcome to the bartender au! For clarification on setting: we're calling it modern day (June 2019 to start), and Alex and Jonas are in their mid-twenties. Placing what _would've_ happened on Edwards Island in 2011. But it didn't happen. Or maybe it did. As far as Alex is aware, there was no night on horror island. And as far as Jonas is concerned, Camena is just a town on a map. In other words: Jonas stayed in North Valley. His mom still died. Michael still died. But even if there was a time loop, it ended before it could begin. 
> 
> Turner wrote for Alex, Hammie wrote for Jonas. Apologies for any inaccuracies, we do what we can.

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187527641685/)

**CHAPTER ONE**

It’s half past 1 on a Saturday night. Technically, Alex should still be on shift at the Island. Instead, she’s waiting outside a dive called the Kanaloa, phone in hand, combat-booted foot propped against the brick wall behind her. Somehow she gets away with not wearing heels to work. The waitresses have to wear them, but Alex is behind the bar and, therefore, no one sees her feet. Ergo, no heels required. (Or so she argued to her employers, and they accepted because no one really wants to face repercussions for a sexist dress code, and technically there may have also been some legal issues around appropriate footwear for dealing with breakable glass... Either way, she won.)

“Alex!”

Blue hair is blown out of her face with a little puff as she slips her cell into her pocket, grinning at the approaching duo before Ren already has his arms around her.

“Thought you were gonna go pink?” Her oldest friend tugs at a loose strand of hair, sharing her grin.

“Thought you were gonna go vegan?” She smirks, smacking him upside the head.

“Ow! And yeah, I _ did_. Briefly.”

Alex laughs and hugs his companion. “Hey, Nona.”

“Hey Alex.”

“So, Miss Night Owl finally managed to make some time for us, huh?” Ren is giving her a hard time again. Par for the course. She doesn’t mind it.

“Look, when you guys are only free on the weekend and I’m working 8-4… Or if I’m picking up an extra half-day? I mean, no offense, but I’m not gonna wake up at 11 just so we can grab _ brunch_,” she scoffs.

“Oh, like you’re so much better than _ brunch._”

“Keep your avocado toast, hipster. If I ever get roped into brunching, it’ll only be for bottomless Bloody Marys.”

“Or mimosas,” Nona pipes up, helpfully.

“Yes, exactly Nona. Mimosas will also do, thank you.” Alex gestures to Ren’s girlfriend, giving him a _ see, I told you_, kind of look. He just snorts.

“So, why aren’t we meeting at your place?” Ren is actually holding the door for her. Obviously, Nona has gradually trained him into manners. Good for her. Only took, what, eight, ten years of on-again off-again highschool sweetheartdom to get him there?

Nona goes in first, and as Alex passes she makes a gesture at Ren, mouthing ‘_whipped_.’ It’s good for him, though. Nona’s the calm anchor to his frenetic hyperactivity. And beneath all her jibes and smirking, Alex is really happy for him. They finally seem to be taking things seriously. Years of starting and stopping for school, of phone calls at 2am because _ there’s a guy on her Instagram, are they dating? Is she dating someone? _ (_You’re not actually together right now, Ren. YEAH but I LOVE her!_, etc) — finally, they’re living in the same city again. And have actually moved in together. Or- well, that was actually probably a year ago, now. They’d settled in Seattle and Alex… has yet to make the trip. Whoops. But luckily they came here!

“It’s called the Kanaloa! Like the thing on Edwards Island, right? A throwback to Camena! Besides, I wanted to spare you the herpes,” she tosses the comment over her shoulder, overtaking Nona to lead the way to a booth in the corner. The place is a classic dive: dart boards, pool tables, smoke somehow always hanging in the air even though no one has smoked in a bar in… years. An actual honest-to-god jukebox. It’s a shame the place is kinda dying out. Ah well, shit happens. Gotta keep with the times.

Nona snorts a laugh (ah yes, the training has gone both ways), and Ren smirks. “What a way to talk about your workplace, Al-”

“Oh shut up,” she punches him in the arm. “I meant this.” She gestures to the glitter clinging to her skin — her shoulders, her cheeks, her cleavage (because of course there’s cleavage, she’s a bartender at a _ club _ for god’s sake, how else would she get tips? People like some skin and being given just enough of a hard time. She’s not gonna deny them that if it pays her rent). “It’s go-go night for the month, and they just _ love _ the stuff.” She’d have it in her hair for at least three more days.

There’s half a second’s pause before she turns narrowed eyes on Ren again. “Wait, are you saying you think I wear _ this _ on a regular basis?” Admittedly, yes, the shirt is one of her favorites, but the pink and white PVC skirt? Yeah _ no. _ Never. It is reserved specifically for go-go night and _ only _ go-go night. She bought it as a joke at a thrift store and ended up using it in a Slutty Power Rangers Halloween costume (college, don’t ask) and it sat in her closet for months before the Island became a gig, and go-go night became a thing, and… Well. The rest is history?

“I never _ see you_,” Ren whines. “And all your photos are of, like, cocktails and puns. How am I supposed to know?”

Alex rolls her eyes but - fair. “Well. You’re here now. So let’s have a drink and catch up, mkay? I’m _ technically _ supposed to be back on shift in like an hour, but Mick said she’d cover me and— well, if you want, I can probably sneak you guys in if you wanna crash some poor fuck’s party on the floor. There’s enough noise and flashing lights that you can just commando right in there.” She already knows the answer. Ren, of course, is intrigued because he might have had that phase in college of going to raves and taking too much Molly and… yikes. Nona - ever reasonable - is already grimacing at the idea of a club at 2am.

Ren turns his bright-eyed hopeful look to Nona, then smiles ruefully. “We’re probably gonna pass.”

“Should you be drinking mid-shift?”

Alex scoffs. “I drink _ on _ shift. I’m running at like BAC .02 most of the night,” she jokes.

Nona looks troubled, and Alex quickly walks it back. “Kidding. I don’t drink much outside of work, okay? It’s not— I’m not just spending all day drinking. It’s just part of the job.” _ And daytime is for sleeping, anyway. And laundry. And running Postmates. And checking Craigslist. _You do things to make ends meet, right?

She doesn’t like the look Ren and Nona are exchanging. It’s that _ we need to talk about Alex _ look. She got that a lot at the end of senior year, when she was spending more time tagging along with anyone else than talking with her own family. She got that the first time she dropped out (for like one semester! One measly semester! She made up for it in a summer term, God, calm down). It makes her mouth sour, and she immediately tries to smooth it over.

“Look, I’m sorry you guys came all the way down here just for a couple hours. We can…” She grits her teeth and tries not to grimace. “We can get together tomorrow before my shift.”

“For…” Ren has cast aside the worried look in favor of one more amused, watching her jaw tic.

“For…” It takes everything in her not to scoff. “..._brunch,_” she grumbles. As soon as it’s out of her, Ren is laughing out loud and she sticks out her tongue like it’s covered in something disgusting. “_Ugh, _ God, can’t I just get you guys some drinks instead?”

Nona shoots another look at Ren, and it’s another one she’s seen too often. The _ do you make enough to be treating us, two full-time Adult Employed People, to drinks? _ look.

She huffs out a laugh. “Oh my God, calm down. I got this.” She’s got cash in a roll in her bra, and she tugs the front of her shirt a little lower before heading to the bar.

The bartender is cute, at least. Though it’d probably be easier to get free drinks out of someone less cute, to be honest. Someone a little more desperate. Regardless, she walks up to the bar grinning, head cocked a bit to the side, making a very obvious show of looking him over. “Hey.” She hops up onto a stool, crossing her arms and leaning forward a bit, 'cause - well, when you got ‘em, flaunt ‘em, etc. There’s a bit of cheek in her smile, eyes wide. “It’s my friend’s birthday,” she jerks her head back toward Nona and Ren. “I’m trying to show them a good time in the city. Any chance you do something special for a celebration?” She makes a show of slipping the roll of cash smoothly from the deep-V of her shirt. Gotta spend money to save money. “I’ve got some extra cash in it for you.” He comps a few drinks, he gets the tip. Win-win.

-

It’s been a mostly slow night for him. Mostly. There were some teens who know his shifts, and of course they’d tried to get drinks, but Jonas is more of a hard ass and a hassle than most people bargain for. He’s been working at the Kanaloa for - what, four or five years now? The locals know him, at least. And this random just walks up to him and asks for free drinks. She’s not someone he’s seen around, which sets off more than a few alarms in his head, but that isn’t something to worry about right now.

At eleven, he’d switched with his boss - one big, burly guy known to most people as what his title was - though he was still hanging out in the back. Probably burning up his smoke break, if Jonas knew anything about him. Reggie was supposed to come in around four or five to actually close up, even if that never happened. Usually it’s him. Which he isn’t complaining about. Means he has the bar, and by proxy the drinks, to himself for a little while.

And now he has to focus back on the newcomer. It’s kind of uncomfortable to be so overtly flirted with, though upon looking back to where she’d gestured, he gets whiplash almost instantly. Three friends, probably… what, a year or two younger than he is? And of course none of them look alike. The one at the bar looks like a unicorn has thrown up on her, bright blue hair and bright eyes. Her plus two contains some hipster-looking blondie with a head full of curls, and the one person who actually looks like they might come here on a Friday night for a few lazy drinks until they felt like going home.

That’s an odd crowd. One of his eyebrows raises, and that’s when someone else speaks up. “Are you seriously trying for drinks on _ Jonas, _ of all people?”

“Oh shut up, Pete! Don’t make me spit in your draft!” It’s good natured. They’re a regular, and they’ve seen Jonas being a hardass to near everyone that passed by.

“Girlie, you’d have better luck prying a walnut open with your bare fuckin’ hands than cracking him with a smile and some flashy outfit.”

“Seriously, I will.”

Pete scoffs a bit, laughing as they pull themselves away from the pool table to settle on a bar stool about two away from the odd, blue-haired woman. “Just gimme somethin’ on tap, Jonas.”

“Coming up.” He tosses the towel he’d been using to clean off the bar over his shoulder, and then grabs a glass, turning away from his newest customer to fulfill the request. Tonight is going to be interesting. Probably not in a good way.

-

Alex’s eyebrows shoot up with unanticipated delight as she’s scolded for trying to score free drinks. No - not for trying to do it. For trying to do it _ from him. _ So this is a challenge, huh? What, not into girls? Just not into girls in low shirts? Fancies himself a classy man, working in a joint like this? It’s enough to make her laugh a bit.

But she’s a barfly. She knows people. She can adapt. Her posture slackens, relaxing back a bit, shrugging. “Was worth a shot,” she grins to the man who warned her off her course of action, ignoring the so-called _ Jonas. _ Or maybe not quite ignoring, shooting him a sidelong glance before turning to face the patron.

“What about you, Pete? A girl gets all dolled up, and no one’s even gonna buy her a drink?” It’s not the same seductive innocent play she’d been going with. Not gonna fly here, apparently. Instead it’s a much more standardly Alex crooked grin, well in on the joke. “You know how much rent in Portland is, Pete?” she asks conversationally, crossing her legs and leaning on an elbow. “Too damn much, I’ll tell you that. You know how much my student loans are?” She lets out a long sigh, shaking her head and rolling her eyes melodramatically. They come to rest on Jonas. “And Jonas over here can’t even comp a girl a drink on her friend’s birthday,” she shakes her head disappointedly.

-

Pete offers up a bit of a shrug, “And whatever the lady wants. Not like I ain’t got some money on me.”

Jonas nearly balks in the middle of topping off the cup. Really. This is actually happening tonight. Okay, well, he’s not going to deny service to someone who’s paying, especially not a regular. A regular who somewhat has a reputation for tipping well, depending on the drink. Though his eyes still roll at the older man’s perspective on it, passing the drink over the counter before turning back to the glitter fairy. Seriously, what kind of getup is that? A go-go outfit or something?

“What can I get for you? Seeing as Pete’s paying.”

-

Alex gives her thanks and looks a bit too self-satisfied, though she shares her grin with the kindly patron before turning a not-quite-gloating look on Mr. Jonas.

“The hipster will take a Crux Half Hitch if you’ve got it, or whatever your most pretentious IPA is otherwise. Cool girl will go for a Russian River Belgian, but again - nothing too generic for these two, they’re from out of town, so if not— top shelf whiskey for her, on the rocks. I’ll take the next step down and make it a double, neat.” The words roll off her tongue like she’d already had them planned. Her grin is a little sharp, maybe a tiny bit smug. “I’m not picky.”

-

Jesus Christ she’s pretentious. That just makes his night, doesn’t it? Going under the bar for an IPA is easy, they keep the bottles chilling in the cooler, though her initial requests are more than a bit odd. So she’s just showing off for the sake of showing off. At least she knows her drinks. There’s a bit of a notch to Jonas’s brow as he moves around behind the bar, silently pouring out of a bottle of High West on the rocks and another Bowmore for queen-of-the-pixies herself.

“You’re gonna have to come up to the bar if you wanna drink, y’know. No servers after midnight.” Jonas calls the words out to the two still sitting in their booth, settling the glasses and bottle onto the counter in front of both Pete and the mystery girl. “Now pay up, Pete, you said you would.”

As he’s shelling out cash, Jonas leans himself against the back wall, silently counting.

-

Alex cocks her head, biting her lip to keep from crowing, smiling at the bartender as he pours her drink. Winning his little challenge somehow makes him hotter? Or maybe just… more adorable? She kinda wants to pinch his cheeks. Mostly to see how he’ll react. Before picking up her drinks, Alex hops down off the chair and goes over to Pete, giving him a one-armed hug. “You are a pillar of the community, Pete. A man of faith and charity. Bless you.” She pecks him on the cheek.

Walking back to the prepared drinks, she pulls a couple fives from the roll of cash, slipping the rest back into her shirt. “You too, Jonas.” She bats her eyelashes, sliding the bills onto the bar before picking up the glasses and bottle and heading back to her friends.

“I feel dirty.” Ren whines, though he’s half smirking. “Alex, why do I feel dirty?”

She very nearly cackles, slides the bottle across to him. “Drink up. Mamma worked hard for that drink, boy.” They’re both snorting.

“Thank you, Alex.” Nona has the sense not to complain, but she’s smiling as she drinks up as well.

-

The next thirty minutes or so pass without much incident. The manic woman and her friends are all drinking, and he’s taken up conversation with one of the younger patrons, more than happy to be distracted from the group. Though it looks less like a group, and more like a couple and a third wheel. The hipster and the black-haired girl seem like a couple, and seem far better off than their odd companion. Then again, he isn’t going to complain. Pete shelled out some big bucks for that, and plus the tip, it was better than his usual customers. Though he’d disappeared a few minutes back for the sake of ‘getting home to the missus’ as he put it. Still odd.

Jonas checks the clock, excuses himself to the back. His boss - Daniel - is stacking up crates, and beams at him upon entry. “Well, hey there. Smoke break soon, I’m guessing?”

“Yup. There are some fuckin’ kooks in here today, I swear to God.”

Daniel’s eyebrows raise. “Kooks? You callin’ some of our hard-working, paying patrons kooks Jonas? 'Cause-”

“No! No, no, there are some newbies or something.” Wow he’s rolling his eyes a lot tonight. “One of them’s got electric blue hair. Managed to convince Pete to pay for drinks.”

“Well. Looks like you have them entertained.”

“I _ what?_”

“You heard me!” He laughs, a full-bellied thing, and then hefts a box into its proper place on top of three others. Oh no. Jonas knows where this is going. “Get back out there, make some money. I’ll let you smoke in another… hmm, hour and a half. Make yourself something, on the house.”

God fucking damn it, okay. Well. Back to it, then. He brushes past to grab another bottle - the thing he’d originally needed - before stepping behind the bar again to make himself a rum and coke. Based on the company, he would probably need it, even if he never drank on the job. Okay, not often, at least. The woman near grins when she spots him making one for himself. So she’s one of those people. Great. Perfect. Absolutely stellar.

-

Alex had been worried for a second. Hot bartender disappeared right as she was jonesing for another drink, and her mark - such a good mark, really, what a champ - had already left. For a minute she thought she might actually have to wait til going back on the clock to drink. Unacceptable, of course.

She practically skips back to the bar, even as Ren is stifling his laughter and Nona groaning into her hands. “Drinking on the job?” She tuts her tongue. “For shame.” _ Hypocrite. _

“Tell you what. Since my good friend Pete can’t buy the next round, how about I take that - and a couple duplicates - off your hands for you?” She doesn’t expect it to work. Unless he’s so sick of her that he just wants her gone. Which— sad, but totally fair. But she’s a generous tipper! A $10 tip on three drinks? That’s a score, especially at a dive like this. Then again: he’s hot. Probably gets a hefty tip all the time. She nearly snorts at that thought, but recovers quickly. “Whaddya say, Jojo?” She cocks her head again, in that mockery of flirtation. “My budget will forever appreciate you.”

-

“Not usually...” Jonas mutters the words into his cup, and pointedly keeps away from her. _ Jojo. _ Seriously? This is insane. He’s back out for what, two minutes, and she’s already gaming him for free drinks. Tonight is going to be the absolute worst, he can tell. The other girl - Gretchen, he thinks, but she usually goes by Gigi - scowls at the newcomer. Uh-oh.

“Uhm, excuse me? We were talking. _ I _ was talking.”

“Gigi, seriously, she’s just trying to coax me into something that I’m sure as hell not gonna do. You decided on that next glass yet?” Instantly he’s trying to redirect her, because he’s fairly sure she thought the blue haired one was flirting with him while she was also flirting; this is a clusterfuck. Gigi glances back to him with a sugary sweet smile, and he thinks he can feel himself cringing at it, even if she doesn’t notice. This is terrible. All of this is terrible.

“Oh, just go ahead and get me whatever you’d advise for a woman like myself.” Yup. He can busy himself with that. Jonas only gives a nod before promptly turning around to go and mix her a drink. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can spot both the hipster and the other girl trying to get their friend to lay up a bit. At least some people still have their brains attached to their heads.

-

Upon hearing Jonas address her, Alex lets out a delighted gasp, an amazed whisper with eyes wide; “Oh my god, Jojo and Gigi — this is _ adorable_.”

She still feels the woman’s glare, and Alex turns to her with that look of delight falling into a smirk, voice jarringly back in her usual register, and sardonic. “Look, hon. I’m not trying to steal your boyfriend.” She shakes her head, tone more mocking than pacifying. “Just flirting. He’s hot.” Her eyes flick over him again for a second, before looking back to the woman. “And he’s a _ bartender,_” she rolls her eyes; “it comes with the territory.” Alex should know. She’s constantly getting hit on. It doesn’t always suck, but sometimes it does. Too bad. Just how the world works. Besides- “I’m not laying hands on him, okay?” She wiggles her fingers. “You can keep him all to yourself.”

For a second, Alex turns away, prepared to just order a round and leave - apologize to the poor guy while she’s at it - but then she hears the woman scoff.

Alex freezes.

Ren must be watching more closely than she’s realized, 'cause she hears from behind, “Alex…”

Too late. The idea is already in her head.

When she turns back to Gigi, she has that fake sunny smile on again. “You up for a wager, Gigi? You win, I’ll pay for your drink. An apology for sweet talkin’ Jojo over here.” She jerks her head toward the bartender, a motion at odds with her voice, but just about fitting with the glint in her eyes.

-

Wow. He has shit luck. Gigi opens her mouth to respond when Jonas slams his hand down onto the counter, followed by her drink. “Nope. My bar, my rules, and I’m shutting this the fuck down.” The noise seems to surprise some of the other patrons, and Daniel pokes his head out of the back room only to give a wave motioning for Jonas to do what he wants. With a shrug, he allows it. Jonas isn’t going to do anything stupid, and his boss has learned that by now. Which is good.

Besides. This needs to end before someone takes it way too far. “Three things. One: she’s not my girlfriend, she’s a person who ordered a drink and now needs to pay for it.” Gigi looks sheepish, but she hands over the cash, along with a generous tip for the trouble.

-

Alex is half disappointed - 'cause she coulda whooped that girl in anything - but she graciously drops the fight. She glances down and away, biting her lip as she tries not to look impertinent (it is a struggle). She’s more excited to see the other woman dressed down than she is herself. Maybe a little happy that he goes out of his way to point out she’s not his girlfriend. She does not snicker, no matter how much she is tempted to.

-

“Two: if you’re going to wager, bet, or bargain, either do it away from me or without involving me. I’ve got not horse in this race. And three-” He rounds on the pixie queen again, and he really needs a better name for her, but that doesn’t really matter when Jonas leans over the bar and glowers at her. It’s an intimidating stance. He’s a pretty tall guy, not to mention being built well, and seeing that towering over you would not mean you were having a particularly good day. When he speaks again, his voice is low, nearly threatening. “_Don’t. _ Call me Jojo.”

-

When he finally gets to her, Alex’s eyes flick back to him and for once she isn’t grinning. But only because she’s got her lips sandwiched between her teeth, hardly hiding a small smile, ‘cause she’s too in on the drama. It’s been a long day. And poking this poor guy has been just the entertainment she needed. She should really apologize for that. She’s not sure if it’s him or the bar itself, but something smells _ good. _ Kinda woody and kinda smokey, and just a bit of that familiar boozy scent. Her lips slip from between her teeth and she schools her face into an appropriately measured expression. No fake grins, no smirks, just that small quirk at the edge of her mouth that makes it clear his intimidation tactics - while, okay, kinda hot? - aren’t what’s making her _ choose _ to accept his demands.

Tilting her chin up at him, in a challenging gesture, she takes a deep breath— but lets it out. The _Or what? _ carefully tucked away. She knows what: she’ll get kicked out of the bar. And that would be a real shame. Instead of answering right away, she just meets his - _ oh, hello, intense _ \- gaze, and stares him down.

“...Okay.” _ For now. _ “In that case, _ Jonas. _ Three reasonably priced rum and cokes, please.” She hasn’t moved a muscle since he decided to confront her. Not stepping back, not shrinking away, not backing down, though very carefully meeting his demands.

-

Reasonably priced. He nearly scoffs. After all the shit she just pulled? They’d be the most expensive drinks he mixes tonight, if not for the fact that his boss might kill him. Those aren’t exactly pricey, depending on what rum he uses. But Jonas can meet those demands. Even if he really doesn’t want to deal with this any longer. Slowly, he pulls himself back, only giving a paced kind of nod before turning around to fill up three glasses. He thinks he hears her friends shooting her whispers, trying to placate her, and really he’d appreciate the gesture if they weren’t affiliated.

But they are. And he’s serving them anyways. Because both he and the Kanaloa need money, and his boss will kill him if he doesn’t, and some other reason that he can’t think up right now. If he just keeps giving himself _ reasons_, Jonas might manage not to pop a gasket. Which would really not be good on working hours.

“Here.” He passes the three glasses over the bar, and then settles against the wall again, taking out a pack of cigarettes to flick them open and shut. No smoking inside. Doesn’t mean he can’t work the lid a little bit to get rid of his need to be yelling at something. Really, he thought he was past this stage. Then again, the whole intimidation tactic had been for the point of mediating… Ah, he can grumble over details later. For now he just needs to get his pay before going outside and calming his nerves. Easy.

-

Alex pulls out her cash. “Thank you, Jonas.” It’s not _ quite _ a sing-song, but close, as she drops several bills on the bar. She always leaves a good tip. Always. And he is more than deserving of it.

When she finally makes it back to Ren and Nona, Ren’s eyes are wide with a kind of shocked and giddy expression, and Nona looks worried.

“Ohmigod, I feel like we just narrowly averted a bar fight!” He’s more excited than he should be. Alex snorts.

“Alex, seriously, that could’ve gone so badly-”

“Ugh, calm down. I’m like… the easy-going-est person ever.” Ren nearly chokes on his drink, but Alex continues anyway. “We would’ve settled it with a little wager, she would’ve lost her cool and stormed out. Maybe before paying up, maybe not. That’s how these things work.” 

“That is definitely _ not _ how these things work,” Nona mutters.

“Hey, I got us _ one _ round for free, right? That’s something?”

“You…” Ren looks at her, a little perplexed. “You… _ paid _for these?”

Alex bursts out laughing. “Yeah I _ paid _ for these, Christ Ren, I’m not in college, we’re not shoplifting beer.”

“Rum and cokes,” Nona corrects absently.

“It was beer,” Ren corrects his girlfriend. “It was beer and it was from a Mexican supermarket over spring break.”

Yes, before her dad stopped paying her tuition and Cancun became a distant dream. “Besides, the poor bartender was about to have a heart attack,” she muses, glancing back to the bar. He’s standing, glaring at nothing, brooding. All tall, dark, and-

“Oh god, he’s just your type.”

Alex grins. Yes. Yes he is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy! First chapter! Welcome to the highly self-indulgent bartender au. We have fun. Thanks to sassy on tumblr for helping us make a half-assed attempt at accuracy for the first few chapters, and to the Jonalex server for sharing our enthusiasm xD


	2. Chapter 2

[](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187634198065/miss-blue-cura%C3%A7ao-a-holy-spirits-playlist)

[](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5rMk09OCTxVaGdihHwdkiY0M6ztXZXUC)

**CHAPTER TWO**

There’s a certain kind of rush Alex gets from a busy night at work. She needs the hustle, the loud music and laughter and fast paced energy. She can’t sleep if she isn’t dead on her feet. And for that reason - and that reason _ alone _ \- she enjoys go-go night. The parts she does _ not _enjoy are the following:

  1. The dress code. PVC isn’t particularly breathable, and by the time she’s done her thighs are the fuckin’ Amazon and she’s begging for a shower, but the best she can do is pat herself down a bit, tie her jacket around her waist and curse herself for not bringing a change of clothes. 
  2. The dancers. Well, maybe not the dancers themselves, they tend to be pretty cool people when she gets a chance to talk with them, but the attention paid to them can be off-putting. And the amount of times she has to tell someone they can’t buy a drink for a dancer is just too much. 
  3. The customers. Christ, if she hears one more comment asking to see her _moves,_ she’s gonna punch someone. Her go-to, when asked, is to do a few tricks with the bottles, light a few things on fire, shift their attention. Getting people’s attention is easy. Losing it is the hard part.

4am has come and passed and she’s done with her shift, wads up her tips and hands a chunk to Mick for covering her disappearance earlier, and tucks the rest into the back pocket of her skirt (the one good thing about that skirt; it has pockets). Her place is about a mile and a half from the club, but that’s not too bad if the weather is right. And it’s a pain to try to ride her bike to work in a skirt. And public transportation means a wait at the bus stop, ‘cause she almost never catches the first bus. Might as well walk, really.

A few blocks down from the club, she pulls off her hair tie and flips her head for a second to loosen up the pressure on her head. Oh god— she snorts at the sheer amount of glitter falling like snow onto the ground. Way too early for snow. Though, admittedly, she’s pretty excited ‘cause the Island is still up-and-coming but the owners apparently had a place in SoCal that did snowglobe parties, and Alex is _ intrigued_. There’s been talk of Christmas in July. That could be fun.

She could easily just run a hand through her hair to loosen the stuff, but instead shakes her head forcefully, grinning when it makes her go a bit dizzy, and pausing to lean against a wall.

It takes her a moment to realize that it’s the same wall she’d been leaning on earlier. The wall outside the Kanaloa. She checks her phone. 4:24. The lights are still on inside. She pulls on the door, and it’s not locked. Wow. Really an up-all-night, drink-your-sorrows-away kinda place, huh?

Her hands are tucked under her tied jacket as she walks in, slow steps, glancing around to see what’s still happening. There’s a door past the bathrooms that looks like it opens onto an alley, and that’s open. Some noise from a back room. Otherwise, seems empty. Alex hesitates for a second. Maybe they’re closed and just haven’t locked the front door yet? She didn’t check for hours posted, and they don’t have your standard neon — at least, not an Open sign, though there are some lit signs for beer brands both old and new. Yeah, shit, she doesn’t need to be in the way here, not after a long night. If they’re off the clock, they’re off the clock. She turns to go.

-

Hauling crates is never a fun job. Absolutely, positively, never a fun job. But Daniel did his share of it, and so Jonas has to do his own. Of course Reggie hadn’t shown up to close, which means Jonas picked up the slack, but that also means he got his tips. So not all that bad. Jonas is dragging about two boxes of stock from the back to put behind the counter when he notices the manic pixie dream girl standing in the doorway again. It’s not particularly an interaction he wants to have. Especially not after working all night. Sure, the shift was slow and he was hanging around with patrons for most of it, but it just… Is it really worth it?

…Yeah. Yeah, okay, sure, it’s worth it. After a quick trip to the back for his boss’s approval to open up the bar one last time before they actually close, Jonas wipes down the counter, and lets out a sharp whistle. It’s not like he’s calling a dog, or catcalling her - it’s more like a military warning. Even if he’s never been in the military and learned it from some vets that decided to come in and have a small party in one of the booths. They’d been pretty chill dudes, for ex-marines.

Already, he’s mixing her a drink. One that reminds him of her hair - that caribbean blue. The Adios Motherfucker. “Yo. If you’re here for something, go ahead and sit down.” There’s a pregnant pause. Jonas is going to regret this choice. “This one’s on me.”

-

Alex is surprised enough at the noise behind her that she doesn’t even try to hide it, just turns with wide eyes until she recognizes Hot Jonas from earlier.

Oh. _ Hello, Hot Jonas.  
_

And with that memory, comes the memory of being a bit… well, a bit of a dick, to be frank. She winces a little, but his offer of a free drink immediately makes her perk up. Not that she needs a drink. Especially an AMF, which - combined with the last two and a half hours tending bar, that last call tequila shot, and her ‘thanks for covering, Mick, how about another’ _ second _ tequila shot - will probably be just enough to have her happily buzzed on the way home after. Or, with the amount he’s overpouring on the booze, maybe stumbling. She’s not mad about it.

Still, she’s tired enough after her shift that she doesn’t have the usual bounce in her step as she heads to the bar.

“I, uh… I should apologize. For earlier.” She’s got a sheepish kinda crooked smile on, leaning on her elbows and rubbing the back of her neck, pulling a face. “The hipster guy is like my best friend from way back, we haven’t seen each other in a while…” She rolls her eyes. “It’s like going home after living alone, y’know? You revert to your old ways.” Even if her old ways were… kinda still her current ways. Sometimes. “Anyway. Point is: sorry.”

-

She’s apologizing. That’s… For some reason, that strikes him as more than a bit odd. She hadn’t seemed the type to apologize for anything. More of a devil-may-care chaotic neutral type. Then again, he’d been that way in high school, so. North Valley isn’t exactly a place that makes the best people. He should know. He’s one of them. Jonas just offers a shrug, and those dark eyes of his are a bit brighter as she sits down.

“No harm, no foul. Not like I was breaking up a catfight in the middle of the dance floor or something.” He finishes off the mixed drink, and slides it over the counter to her, leaning back against the wall again.

-

“Ugh, I’ll drink to that,” she raises her eyebrows along with the glass before taking a long pull. Probably more than is ladylike.

-

“Didn’t peg you as the type to come back to a place like this, though, what with the uh-” Jonas gestures to her hair, head tipping a bit to the side, “-glitter and all.”

Was she coming from the club? It’s that new place that set up a few streets down however many months back - the Island? Something like that. Not as if it’s any of his business, but it intrigues him a bit.

-

She pops the garnish into her mouth, even though she knows it won’t be anything special. Sue her, she likes maraschino cherries, so what. She sucks on it for a second, then pops it out again, grinning. “Yes, well; the things we do for cash.” It’s practically an inside joke. He knows how it is. Probably. Or maybe not, she’s worked a few different bars since she started back in college; she’s seen some interesting events in her time. Maybe he hasn’t. For all she knows, he’s the owner’s kid, just getting his feet as a bartender. Though she doubts it. He seems to know his way around enough, have some good rapport with regulars. Maybe.

-

Daniel shouts from the back, “Jonas! Got another for you!”

“Ah, shit, just a minute.” He darts into the back again, leaving the mystery girl alone with her drink so that he can grab another crate full of bottles.

-

She doesn’t even bother raising the glass this time, just lowering her mouth to the straw, twirling the cherry between her fingers, lifting her hand just barely off the bar in a salute as he goes.

While he’s gone, she spins in her seat, taking in the rest of the place. The pool tables are old, but look like a good time. She’s not too bad at it. Hasn’t gotten practice recently, but there was a setup upstairs at the bar across the street from her college campus and she had a _ lot _ of practice there. Even learned a few trick shots for the sake of winning bar bets. Alex is excellent at bar bets. Darts is an old friend too, and one she’s still good at thanks to the board propped up in the back room at the Island. It’s a way to decide who does what. She’s got good enough aim to have her pick of the closing duties, when they’re up for debate.

Another long pull of her drink - and she shouldn’t like it as much as she does, it’s just sugar and booze, but it was her go-to (along with your standard Long Island Iced Tea) for getting drunk with the fewest number of free drinks. The AMF has the added bonus of matching her hair. Which, to be quite honest, is probably why people were happy to buy it for her. Or, more specifically, when asked ‘I dunno, what drink says _ me_?’, a potential suitor could feel charming and she could get drunk off her ass. Win-win.

Absently, Alex chews at the cherry. Disgusting. It’s perfect. All flavored syrup and squeaky fruit. She pops the stem in after, wondering if she can still manage a knot. One of those skills you pick up for whatever reason. Probably to impress people. She has a lot of skills like that. Useless but impressive.

-

Jonas returns with crate in hand and chewing on the butt of another cigarette. He isn’t going to light it, because that’s illegal and he isn’t sure his boss would let that slide, but the sensation is enough for now. Maybe he should go to the warehouse again later. Still have an opening around noon. Then again, they always seem to have openings for him. Probably because he’s such a regular. Jonas settles the crate onto the counter away from the mystery woman - still drinking - and starts pulling bottles out to replace empty ones. Making himself a drink sounds pretty good right about now.

The rum and coke hadn’t done him much good for the rest of the night. Of course it had made him a little more loose, but he can hold his liquor, which means one drink wasn’t exactly a reason to start tripping over himself. The fact that people had been either flirting or fighting all night was a completely different reason entirely. Once he’s finished and settled the box back at his feet, he starts stacking empty bottles into it, popping back up and down in her view.

It’s a nice view, admittedly. Cigarette half hanging out of his mouth, muttering number crunches under his breath; with the added observation that he’s good with his hands. Maybe an odd one, but it’s easy to tell. From doing tricks with his lighter to doing tricks with a shaker, Jonas has learned a few things in his time doing work like this. Making ends meet was the original goal, but now it’s become more of a full-time thing, because Daniel is pretty cool and Jonas needs the cash. That, and it’s uneventful. No need to get reactionary when there’s nothing to react to.

“Okay. That’s that done. Dan, you got any more?”

“Nope! You’re free as a bird.”

“Perfect.”

-

Alex tried to be polite and respectful. She did.

But then there’s the tequila really kicking in - and the gin, the rum, the vodka, the curaçao - and she finds herself staring even when she thought she wouldn’t. Ren was absolutely correct. He is _ precisely _ her type. Or the type she _ wants, _ anyway, even if it’s not always who she ends up with. Too tall, firm, weirdly stoic, some kind of _ Rebel Without a Cause _ vibes. Dark hair. Obviously way more ripped than he lets on. She can see those arms; she can tell they’re all corded muscle. Goddamn.

She’s got her legs crossed, sipping at her drink and absently running her (yes, tied, thank you) cherry stem over her lips as she stares. Too soon she’s sucking on an empty straw, the noise too loud.

-

Jonas raises an eyebrow at the sound. Okay, a little weird - and the fact that she’s staring at him makes it even more weird, because that’s really really attentive. She probably shouldn’t be that attentive. He doesn’t even know her name. Absentmindedly, he smirks. “Huh. You sure were thirsty, then.”

-

Her eyebrows raise, a coy smile steadily growing on her lips. “Mmmhm.” Still is. Very.

Alex hops to her feet, pulls the fresh wad of cash from her back pocket. It hasn’t been sorted into denominations, so she takes a second to count out a hefty handful of ones and fives. “I’m making you a drink.” It’s a proclamation, not a suggestion, and she promptly marches down to the edge of the bar to push in past the little swing door. “You made me one, now I’ll make you one. Turnabout’s fair play.” Is that how that saying goes? Regardless, it’s how she’s said it. The tequila is getting to her a bit, maybe, ‘cause she’s feeling a little hot under the collar - or, well, no collar, but she’s definitely a little warm, but that’s one of the benefits of showing skin: more surface area to cool from. “You look like someone who’d enjoy a Manhattan. Sound right?”

-

“Uh-” A Manhattan would be nice, he isn’t going to kid himself, but at the same time… “You’re not the one mixing drinks here. Employees only.”

Jonas stops her even if she’s already technically behind the bar, blocking her off from the drinks themselves as he takes a hold of her shoulders. It isn’t a hard grip, he’s not trying to hurt her, just keep her in place. Because she’s probably starting to feel the effects of that AMF, which means she might not make the best choices. And besides: does she even know how to work a bar? Sure, people might mix drinks at home, but this is an entirely different setup.

So he keeps her from going any further, and quietly evaluates her. Smaller than he is, probably younger, and… combat boots. Okay, that’s a bit odd. And wearing a go-go skirt. Not to mention the fact she’s covered in glitter, which is probably on him now, too, but he doesn’t really care. He can just wash it off once he gets home.

-

“Aww, c’mon,” her grin is a touch goofy, though there’s plenty of mischief in it before she bats her eyelashes up at him, leaning into his grasp. “Promise I won’t break anything. Track my every move; no funny business.” She does a quick little _ cross my heart _ motion. “I’ll just whip up a nice Manhattan - I’m assuming you’re a rye kinda man, though I guess I _ could _ go for bourbon…” Her eyes flick to the side for a second as she thinks, then snap back to him. “It’s only three ingredients, Jojo. Now how can I mess that up? You can even be my supervisor. _ Supervisor Jonas. _ A nice ring to it, huh?”

Perhaps - _perhaps_ \- she may be being a teensy bit… cheeky. Especially with that little _Jojo_ in there. And her grin seems to recognize that she is very aware she’s done it, and very aware he doesn’t like her doing it. But Cheeky is Alex’s middle name. (Along with a variety of other adjectives and nouns she’s assigned herself over the years. Danger is in there, as well as Provocative, as well as Hilarious. She’s picked out several and can’t for the life of her remember all of them.)

-

Well, he could keep arguing with her. Jonas doesn’t even know if she’s qualified, much less sober enough to actually make a drink, and his boss is basically _ right there _ in the back room. Then again, the bar technically isn’t open… Yeah. Second choice he’s about to regret tonight.

She says more than few things that rub him the wrong way. _Jojo._ _Supervisor Jonas,_ which - what the hell, where did that even come from - but she seems to know her way around, and he’s tired, and he’s sure there have to be a few more reasons hidden up in his head as to why he lets her go and leans back against the back wall; crossing one ankle over another.

“Alright. Fine. _ One _Manhattan, and then you’re back on the other side of the bar.”

-

“Will do.” Alex takes her sweet time familiarizing herself with their stock, checking out what she has to work with. “So.” Her fingers run over a couple bottles, before turning to place a coupe in the ice to chill - they haven’t burned the well yet, so she doesn’t feel particularly guilty. Setting up a glass for mixing - not bothering with any fancy bottle tricks, she’s not on the clock after all - she goes for the bitters first, directing her question to Jonas with a bit of a smirk. “You want it sweet or hard, Jojo?” Bourbon or rye. The classic is rye, but she’s gone both ways. She knows what’s objectively good, but taste varies.

-

Did he plan on doing this tonight? No. Is he still doing it? Admittedly, yes. “Hard.” He’s going to need it with her around.

Jonas is fiddling with his cigarette pack again. He’s not about to smoke another one, because that would be his third tonight and that isn’t a good thing, but it still keeps his hands busy for lack of having something to do with them. Technically, he should be clearing off her glass and wiping down the bar again. But if she’s making another drink, why not just do it after he’s finished? It isn’t like Daniel will care, so long as it gets done.

-

Alex plucks up the other two bottles she needs, smiling half to herself. “My kind of man.” Bitters, rye whiskey, sweet vermouth. Three ingredients. She gives him the good stuff (as good as they’ve got, anyway, they’re not quite as fancy as the Island, but that’s to be expected), ‘cause— well, after dealing with her, he probably deserves it. It’s not like she makes things easy.

She doesn’t go for speed, and might even be overpouring a bit, but gives it an extra long stir with the ice just in case. Taking a sip off the spoon once it’s stirred, she nods her approval. Strong, not too sweet, but balanced. She sneaks in a tiny twirl of the coupe’s stem around her finger before setting it on the bar and pouring his drink. Skewering a couple cherries on a toothpick - ‘cause she’s not about to put inarguably dirty hands into the garnishes, she’s not a cretin - she slides one into the cocktail and the other into her mouth as she hands it over, glancing up at him and daring him to say it’s bad.

-

Well at least she knows what she’s doing. Kind of hard to mess up a 2-1-2 mix, but he’s seen people do it before. Jonas takes the glass and holds it up to her in thanks before taking a sip. Not terrible. Actually - okay no, he can give her more than that. It’s good. Though he just hums his approval, only half paying attention while glancing toward the back room one last time. If Daniel comes out, he can say he made the drink (why is he taking the fall for something she did?) and he’d invited her behind the bar (seriously, why?).

“Not half bad. You mix drinks at home or something?” Or she’s picked it up along the way.

-

Alex huffs out a laugh, turning to clean up after herself. “Or something.” It is somehow incredibly funny to her that he hasn’t pegged her for another in the business. Then again, her little stunt earlier in the night didn’t exactly follow proper etiquette for bars, even though she’s worked behind several.

The AMF is definitely starting to kick in. Alex is a fan of tequila. Her eyes flick to the back wall, then to the well, and before she can tell herself not to she’s popped the house bottle up into her hand, swiped a couple glasses, turned her back to him in a half-assed attempt to stop him from stopping her, and is pouring two shots. It’s her closing tradition. Not usually for two bars in one night, but whatever. The bottle is back in place in a few seconds, and she holds out the second shot. “Last call, Jojo?”

-

One eyebrow raises. That had seemed too coincidental, the fact that it looks like she was coming from a club… Yeah. She works for the Island, most definitely. But then again, she’d been a patron tonight, so he isn’t about to turn her away just for working in a different bar. Not like he really cares about the whole rivalry thing— that’s mostly Daniel’s whole spiel.

When she holds out the shot to him, Jonas shakes his head a bit, but takes it from her anyways. “Guess this is a thing for you closing, huh? Even if I still have a drink in my other hand.” He holds out the Manhattan, and then taps the bottom of the shot glass onto the counter before tipping it back to drink. Something his father had gotten him into the habit of doing, mostly because of his teenage years and the subsequent drinking competitions afterward.

-

Alex takes the shot with a straight face, staring straight into his eyes like some kind of test. She cocks her head with a grin. “Well, thank you for indulging me.” She can be polite. Kinda. Sometimes.

-

Tequila after whiskey isn’t the best combo, but once he’s finished the shot, Jonas picks himself up off of the back wall, and goes back to wiping it down. He still has the Manhattan in his hand, only half finished.

-

He’s back to closing duties, and for a second Alex hesitates. “You want a hand?” It’s not like she hasn’t done this before. Maybe it’s a weird offer, but… “I mean, I kinda feel like I owe you.” Plus, she’s got a few minutes before that shot hits. A few minutes of useful. She’s good at holding her liquor (lots of practice), and quite good at hiding her buzz, but at some point she’ll start showing it, and it’ll probably be soon.

She should probably feel guilty for the next thought going through her head. Instead, she’s just internally resigned because this is College Alex all over again:

He looks like a good guy. A hot guy. A guy who’s pretty clean cut, who keeps his mise neat, who doesn’t suffer fools making drama on his shift. A guy who’d probably look out for a girl who’s a little too tipsy to go home alone.

Unfortunately, such guys also have too much integrity to then take said tipsy girl’s invite up to her apartment.

At that unfortunate consideration she sighs slightly. Shame.

-

“You know, if you feel like you owe me, I’d take it in cash.” Jonas rolls his eyes a bit at her, but he’s smiling nonetheless, taking another sip of his original drink before speaking again. “Nah. Monetary compensation isn’t needed. If you know what you’re doing, you can go ahead and help me close. Not like I’m gonna refuse the help.”

After he’s wiped down the bar, checked the stock, and made sure all the glasses are properly cleaned, he finally downs the rest of the Manhattan with just a bit of a twitch afterward. That was most definitely not mixed to drink fast. Oh well, he has to get out at some point. Jonas pops the cherry into his mouth, still chewing on the stem as he steps out from behind the bar to go and pick the chairs up and put them back up onto the tables.

In the middle of checking over the cues and the pool tables that she’s able to spot it. An all black, three-pointed little crown inked onto the nape of his neck. It’s something he’s almost forgotten about, a remnant of another place he used to work for: King’s Row. It hadn’t shut down, but he’d moved out of the area, and so he’d had to find work elsewhere. All of the long-term employees had the logo tattooed somewhere on their body.

-

She’s been helping out pretty reliably, but got distracted by the jukebox. She’s fighting her better nature to not put on something to dance to when she glances over to Jonas and— “Oh my god.” Alex is probably overly giddy. Luckily, she’s got three shots of tequila and an AMF to blame when she surges over to his side, grabbing the back collar of his shirt to pull it down. “And here I thought you were some straight-laced good boy.” She very nearly snorts. “What’s this, a college dare?”

Alex has some ink herself, though only the dates on her wrist are visible at the moment.

_ 4.18.92  
6.21.10 _

She’s probably too close for comfort, her fingers tracing over the crown. Not the cleanest work, looks like standard flash. But great placement.

-

“_Jesus-_!” Jonas nearly jumps out of his goddamn skin when her fingers graze his neck. Almost instantly he’s whipping back around to face her with one hand over the crown, leaned on a pool table as he tries to resist the urge to punch her lights out. Which isn’t an anger thing, he just goes to ‘fight’ before ‘flight’ even enters his mind. Once he’s convinced himself to calm back down, he just shakes his head. “Fuckin’ God, way to make me panic for a minute. No, it’s not a college dare. Used to work for a place back in my hometown. We all got them after about a year of steady service.”

-

“Cute.” She’s smiling (though it’s definitely more edged toward a smirk) up at him, resisting the very Drunk Alex urge to get closer. This is one of those times she has to pass for not as inebriated as she is. She can do that. Alex bites her tongue ‘cause she is so tempted to make a comment about if he’s got any other hidden ink. And to give him a thorough look-over. Nope. _ Not appropriate, Drunk Alex. We don’t eyefuck people on the first night. When they’re more sober than us, anyway. Most of the time. _ The more she considers it, the more exceptions she seems to find. But she keeps her eyes on his face instead of the rest of him.

Either way, her smile is maybe a teensy bit predatory. Keeps her distance, though, so that’s something. “Did it hurt?” It’s said teasingly, with just enough well-meaning joke in it to keep it from being outright mocking.

-

His mouth purses into a thin line, but he doesn’t do much more than that. It’s once more occurring to him that he doesn’t even know her name. Granted, it’s only been a night, but they’ve actually been making half-decent conversation, or something close to it, and just calling her a manic pixie dream girl isn’t going to sit entirely well. Or at least, based on demeanor, she’ll probably sock him in the jaw. Which is fair when someone you barely know on a first name basis is calling you a movie trope. “Not as much as the ink on my back. That one felt like it took just about forever to get done.”

Jonas isn’t about to show it off to her, but it did feel like forever. He’s had it for several years now: a pair of wings that stretched from both shoulder blades all the way down to his sacrum. He’s still trying to figure out how to ask her name without sounding like a complete and utter creep.

-

Alex’s eyes light up. “No way! Can I s-” She snaps her mouth closed barely before asking _ can I see? _ but Drunk Alex is steadily emerging, and _ she _ seems to think the _ less _ creepy option is to take a step back, turn around and reach for the hem of her shirt, pulling just the back up to her neck to show off the ink she has on the back of her right shoulder. It’s a nice piece. A collage of sorts. For Michael. Just like the first one. And the third. Which is just barely peeking out from the top of her skirt, just the top stems of the letters from where they sit on the back of her hip.

-

His mouth opens, and he’s confused for just a second before she’s pulling her shirt up and _ hey what the fuck is she doing _— Oh, that’s a tattoo. That’s a tattoo, and now he feels like even more of a creep for the original direction his mind was going in. Even worse when he wants to run his hands over the lines and lineless edges of ink, to ask what it’s about, to survey about as close as he can get. Then his eyes dip lower and Jonas is berating himself for even trying to look over her, because again he doesn’t even know her fucking name. God he needs to get a hold of himself. She kind of does, too, but he isn’t even going to hop onto that train.

So instead, he does the next best thing. Heaves a sigh, spins around from where he’s leaned on the pool table, and copies her motion to pull up the back of his shirt. “Here. Know what you were gonna say, anyways.” The wings are folded up against his back, black outline to a rainbow of color making up the feathers, the very tips dipping below his waistband.

-

Her shirt is still riding up her back as she turns, but it’s forgotten as he straight up invites her and- “Holy shit.” Alex’s fingers itch and— well, Drunk Alex is having a field day, ‘cause her fingers are tracing the inner curves, admiring the work. “Fuck, how long did that take? Is this local?” It’s a _ nice _ tat. Like, way better than the crown by far. Definitely custom, and well thought out, and _ gorgeous. _ Something with a story.

Leaning closer, she presses the top of his back like she can bend him over the table to get better lighting. “Whoever did this really knew color, wow.” She’s no expert on tattoos, not by a long shot, but she’s seen some pieces attempting to be ‘rainbow’ that ended up either Lisa Frank gradients or muddied up and unevenly toned. This is a great dispersal of colors.

-

Jonas straightens up into a line when she first touches him, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to relax anytime soon, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead he puts up with her hands on his back, glancing to her over his shoulder every so often as if he can gauge when she’s going to get tired of the motion and go back to whatever she was doing before. “Place in my hometown. Took… a few days in all? Maybe a week. I got it done forever ago.” Or at least what felt like forever ago.

When his mom had died, his first tattoo had been for her. A bible verse, right above his heart, Joshua 1:9. His next one was the crown, and he’d just gone from there. He has a pretty high pain tolerance, and it was kind of good training for his patience. Sitting still for hours on end kept him from getting too frenzied when he deals with other people.

-

A low whistle issues from her lips as Alex passes her hand over the other wing as well. Her fingertips trace the lines of feathers lightly. He didn’t take her ever so gentle request to get into the light, so she’s stuck squinting, trying to catch the detail on the line work. Luckily she comes just barely above his shoulder, so she’s close enough to get a good view without needing to bend too much. Benefits of being short? Shorter than him, at least.

“Well whoever did it is a diamond in the rough. I might want a referral.” Not that she has an idea of what she wants to get next. But she probably will get something else at some point. She’s always tempted after seeing some nice ink.

Her hand hesitates as she catches a glimpse of another piece wrapped around under his arm. It’s a cool bit of realism, enough that she sucks air between her teeth. “Oh damn, gruesome.” A hook dug into skin, curving around his torso. Her fingers skate down and around his ribs, pushing aside more fabric to get a better look.

-

—And that’s where that tour of his body ends. Because if she keeps going he’s going to get wrong ideas, or flip out, or something like that. So Jonas rolls out his shoulders enough to shrug her hands off of him, dropping his shirt back into its proper place before going back to fixing up the pool tables and dart board. “If you wanna get something done from him, I can find wherever I flung his card. Not even sure I still have it— may as well be one of my phone contacts, at this point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the other chapter just went up, but unlike So it Goes which is a completed fic with a regular posting schedule (well, regular-ish, appx one chapter per 5-7 days) this one is still being written and we don't care quite so much about having it be airtight (sorry). On the plus side, this means that when I (Turner) get overenthusiastic and want to post a chapter super quick, I can! And, in this case, also make playlists and mood boards to my heart's content! Basically, this AU is super duper fun and self-indulgent and we're having a great time writing it. The first three chapters will likely go up in close succession, mostly because it sets up the dynamic between these two, all taking place the same night, and then after that we'll see. Probably quick because I'm an impatient person xD  
-OWT
> 
> (Also, side note, lemme know if the images are a pain or not. I'm a big fan, but this one is unusually wide, and I think the code I'm using only resizes for mobile not desktop. Lemme know if I need to find a way to adjust sizing in desktops as well, or code it to be smaller)


	3. Chapter 3

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187653972290/boy-with-a-broken-halo-a-holy-spirits)

**CHAPTER THREE**

It doesn’t take him too long to finish up. Daniel must have gone out the back way, because when he checks the lights are off and the door is locked. That just leaves him the front. As he takes out the keys, Jonas stands expectantly by the front door, waiting for her to join. “You think you can make it home alright?” She’d been pretty fucking tipsy, as far as he could tell. Better to be safe than sorry.

-

Alex had vaguely taken him up on the offer of getting his artist’s contact info, but neither had gone through the trouble of actually swapping their own numbers, so it was mostly a goodwill gesture. She was feeling the drinks just enough to be useless for the last few minutes of close, perched up on the edge of a pool table. Once he’s all done, Alex shoots him a grin. “_Oh _ yeah. No problem.” She’s walked home this drunk before, probably. Definitely taken the bus, for sure.

Waving a hand at him dismissively, she hops down from the table, stumbling just a little bit, ignoring the way her cheeks go pink as she straightens up and walks to the door. “Seriously, I’ll be okay. Not that I’d say no if you wanted to give me a tour of the rest of your ink,” she smirks.

-

Jonas can only roll his eyes at her. The buses are pretty far apart, he doesn’t know how far away she lives, and she is definitely over tipsy. So instead of just leaving well enough alone - like he probably should - his better nature takes over when he opens the door for her on the way out before following just after. “No plans on that. But I am gonna walk you home, because it’s five in the AM and I don’t want some serial killer on your ass just because I decided to be a dick.”

-

Alex doesn’t argue. Just kind of smiles - maybe smirks - nodding, untying her jacket from around her waist to slip it on. Now that she’s not fresh off shift, her body has cooled down enough that it’s actually kinda cool in the morning twilight. She pulls her tips and phone out of her back pockets, stuffing them, and her hands, in her jacket instead.

-

The lock slides home with a soft click, and after checking over the door another three times (better safe than sorry) Jonas gestures for her to start walking. She’s the one who knows the way home. Though in the meantime he sorts his tips, flicking through ones and fives as he makes his way through the stack— And then he comes across a bill with both a name and a number on it. In pencil, thankfully, but it bugs him enough to ask. “Your name Alex? ‘Cause if it is, some unlucky punk left their number on a single for you.”

-

She’s taking her time, focused on that essential skill of not seeming as drunk as she is, as she heads towards her apartment. Her roommate hasn’t actually been in town for a couple weeks, and distantly Alex wonders if she should be worried. Last she heard Leah was doing some hippie volunteer bullshit somewhere, so it’s probably a no-signal kinda thing.

At the mention of a number, Alex grins, pulling up a bit and stumbling into him in an attempt to read the faint markings on the bill. “Ooh, who’s it from?” Faces are kind of a blur at the Island, and regulars changed for the summer (especially go-go night, which attracts a much more varied group).

-

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that?” He’s trying to get out of it. That excuse isn’t going to work. So instead he sighs, shakes his head, and smooths out the crumpled bill. “Uh… Some girl named Jenny. Don’t know her, don’t plan on knowing her, but maybe that rings a bigger bell for you than it does for me.”

Jonas holds out the bill to her. He’d said the drink was free, anyways, no need to fret over the loss of a dollar. So her name is Alex. Kind of fitting. Also probably not her full name, but that isn’t really a requirement. Even if he is a stickler for being formal and wants to know it. Venturing guesses isn’t hard, not like too many names can be shortened down to Alex. Alexandra, Alexandria, and that’s about it. Alexis? No real reason to shorten that though. Hm.

-

Squinting for a second, still walking forward on autopilot, Alex tries to recall anyone named Jenny. After a second, her eyes widen. “Holy shit, _ Jenny _ Jenny? Like… like hot cage girl Jenny?” Wow. She snatches the dollar back, blinking at it. Okay. Hot cage girl Jenny. Quickly, she glaces back to Jonas. “Don’t worry, Hot Jonas, you’re hotter.” She pauses for a second, head cocked, considering. “Different kind of hot,” she amends. “Sorry.” Her smile is half-sheepish, but not enough to be convincing.

“I’m like another ten or so blocks.” Her eyes skirt away, but her pace remains steady. It’s a long ten blocks. “Sorry if I’m taking you out of your way.” The walk is good for her, though. Even if she’s hazy around the edges, it’s keeping her awake.

-

“Nah, you’re not too far.” Being called Hot Jonas is a little bit jarring, though he takes in stride as best he can, fiddling around with his lighter as they move. “We’re actually passing by my usual second stop off of the day.” Jonas nods his head toward a passing warehouse. Or, at least, what looks like a warehouse— before they look up toward the sign. Warehouse-turned-gym. His second job is boxing, or at least giving lessons on it, while getting some practice in himself. Old habits die hard, and one of his is fighting against whatever life throws at him, whether it be a punching bag or some stupid fuckwad trying to start a riot.

Though that’s pretty far off. Seeing as he still needs sleep, he only teaches from around twelve until the gym closes, and then he heads off to work the bar most days. Which might change soon, depending on the traction they get in the next few weeks. Not great, but he can deal with it. Only time will tell.

-

Alex takes the revelation in stride. “Makes sense. You’re like… ripped.” Her tongue is a little looser than it should be. Blame tequila. Her head tilts back and forth, admitting her potential wrongness, and the motion doesn’t help her balance. “I mean, I guess I’m assuming. You have like… a really nice back.” The glance she shoots at him doesn’t even try to hide the passive want in her eyes, but it’s just a second thought to her. First thought is getting back to her place at all. Then they can figure out if he’ll be joining her. Though honestly, she’s more tired than she usually is. Probably the extra hour out. That’d do it. 5am is usually her bedtime on Saturdays— well, Sundays, at this point.

“Again: not that I’m opposed to you proving me right.” The grin is mostly to herself, eyes back down on her feet as she unconsciously starts avoiding cracks in the sidewalk.

-

Jonas rolls his eyes, and then loops an arm around hers to keep her balanced. “I train people. It’s not exactly a job that comes without physical exertion.” Kind of poor wording. But hey, context is everything. “Especially not when you use most of your free time to keep up with your own routines.”

He has a good few of them. Routines keep him in check, and keep him more organized than he would be if he wasn’t paying attention. No work on Mondays, so that’s grocery day. The rest of the week is a blur of both work, training, house chores, and whatever else he decides to get done in that span of time. Which usually isn’t much. They’ve moved another few blocks over the course of the conversation, and he’s half holding the pixie - Alex - up on her feet. As if that’s a surprise. She’d probably been drinking most of the night, seeing as she can’t really remember whoever ‘Jenny’ is and has gotten even more loose-lipped than she’d been before.

-

“Routines…” Alex rolls the word around in her mouth - in her head - trying to interpret it. “What, like… Wait, no, okay, so like sparring patterns? That’s— is that what sparring is?” She doesn’t know the terminology. What she knows is that he probably didn’t mean _ dance _ routines, which is where her mind went first.

Speaking of- “I bet you’re a good dancer.” The words are flowing freely now that all that alcohol has soaked straight into her bloodstream. “There’s a Tuesday night thing at the community center on Perth. Not crowded like a club, but a fun mix. Generally mixed crowd, a lot of casually excellent salsa. Leans toward Latin, I think, but I’ve also heard ‘em play all the hits from high school on occasion.” She forgets to actually invite him, though she assumes she already did.

They’re still a couple blocks away, but they’ve been making decent time. “The club’s fun and all, but there’s better variety on Perth,” she murmurs. Shit. That third shot past 4am was probably a bad idea. The time is taking more of a toll on her than the alcohol at this point.

-

Jonas snorts slightly at the prospect of both going to a dance and doing it in public. He hasn’t had a public dance since— what, prom? Prom had sucked. He’d ended up ditching not even a third of the way through the night with his date, and they’d snuck into a neighbor’s pool in order to actually make the night fun. And it had been, once he’d forgotten about prom. He should text that guy again. He’d been entertaining. Well… entertaining was one way to put it. “Boxing routines, sure. Coming up with training programs, all that.”

The invitation isn’t a terrible idea. He’d probably go because of her, if anything, but only because of her. He doubts he’d actually be doing any dancing. Just watching Alex would be enough. And _ wow, _ that is definitely the alcohol talking, because he’s known this woman for _ a night_. Just get her home and then get her out of his head. Simple. Easy. As long as she doesn’t show up again and start trying to flirt with him.

-

“Training. Right. A buncha muscle-y types that could snap me like a fuckin' twig. Love it.” She’s leaning on his arm a little more than she needs to, but she’s decided to not hit a single crack in the pavement and it’s taking most of her attention.

“Fuck, you guys always close at 5? We have last call at 3 and are gone by 4.” She’s not quite whining, but it’s close. “It’s so _ early._” She groans. “I mean _ late_. Or. Whatever.” Turning her face into his shoulder, she moans. “Why is the sun already coming up. Why. How.” Most of the words are lost in his sleeve as she trips over her feet again. “Shit, that last shot was such a mistake, holy fuck.”

-

He manages a thready kind of laugh, nodding to her words. “Night shift starts eight or nine and then we lock up at five. Usually Reggie comes in and lets me off at three, but he hasn’t been making it the last few weeks, so I’ve toughed it out.” Jonas pauses once they hit the ten block mark. Her apartment should be somewhere around here, based on earlier conversation.

When Alex stumbles, he’s enough of a gentlemen to keep her upright, eventually getting tired of such hindered movement and just picking her up to throw over one shoulder. The gesture is lost on him, in all his humbleness; he’s just helping someone home. That’s what he says to himself, at least. He’s helping someone home who’s made a good few bad choices, and now they need to be set right. Kind of like himself, in a way, just not as completely drastic. “Alright, Alex. Where’s your place?”

-

Alex can’t help practically snorting as he lifts her up over his shoulder. “Oh my god, you weren’t kidding,” she’s bubbling over with laughter that’s half delighted and half massively entertained. She squirms a bit in his hold, as much to challenge his grip as to glance around at their surroundings. “Big blue building. I can take it from there. Unless you’re gonna haul me up to my apartment.” She’s smirking, fingers tracing the outline of both wings at once through his shirt. “Guardian angel,” she snickers.

“Orrrr…” She squirms again, playing with the hem of his shirt. “You can show me the rest of your tattoos…” Alex is very tempted to lift his shirt and take another look, but she (just barely) stops herself. She’s very tempted to do a lot of things with the advantage of her current position, but instead pushes herself up a bit, tilting her head toward him with a sing-songy whisper. “You can see mi-ine…” It’s hardly trailed off before she’s collapsed onto his back again, giggling. “Oh my god,” she presses her face into his back, shaking with mirth. “I’m so sorry — but also not sorry at all, oh my god.”

She should probably have a little more composure, but— “I mean: you’re a hot tattooed boxer-slash-bartender. With _ wings._” Fake wings, but wings nonetheless. “You must be rolling in the ladies.” She considers the coloring on those wings. “Dudes? Rolling in the dudes, then.” The complexity of sexual politics are too much for her to navigate at the moment. One hand waves dismissively, too drunk to stop now. “You should be named like— Brick, or- or Lance, or Slade. What kind of name is Jonas Long, anyway?” She scoffs at the ID she’s glancing at, slipping his wallet back into his back pocket. It’s not a good habit, lifting wallets. She doesn’t do it often, honest. Not at all, really. Just occasionally tests her skills. And she’s been causing plenty of distraction; it was easy to do.

-

“Both, actually— Wait what?” Jonas is about to turn her around, ask how she knows his last name, when he feels his wallet go back into the pocket of his jeans. Okay. Good to know she’s at least given it back after stealing his private property. Then again, she’s drunk…

-

“Me toooo,” Alex grins, poking him in the side.

-

What the hell is he doing? His free hand pinches at the bridge of his nose, and he walks her to the indicated building. “As for the name; my mom was Methodist. It’s some biblical root, not entirely sure on meaning.”

-

_ Biblical. _ Her grin falters for a second, eyes narrowing. …No. Nope, she’s drunk. That’s not a thing. Those aren’t real things. No such thing as angels, Alex, just Good Christian Boys. Good Christian Boys with wings. Who put up with her hot mess bullshit. And have the patience of a saint.

…No. That’s… no. No?

-

Of course it can’t be a simple as dropping her off at her apartment. Alex’s building has one of the weird key-code pad things, that he doesn’t really understand, but he’s not about to ask for the code. That would probably be a huge invasion of privacy. Jonas has known her for a night, and she’s drunk, and trying to hook up with him. Good to know he's desirable, at least. Hasn’t lost his touch. The fact makes him smirk just a bit - self-centered, sure, but it’s funny to him - as he shifts his hold on her enough to push her off of his back when he turns around. Mostly to get her eyes on the keypad.

“You’re the one that has the code for this thing. Punch it in.”

-

Alex is distracted from her slightly world-altering train of thought as he jostles her and she snorts a laugh. There is something immensely fun about this whole situation. Thrown over his shoulder like a continental soldier. She’s laughing to herself now, too entertained. “Yeah, yeah, gimme a-” Her finger punches at the buttons, the red light going dark and a click coming from the door. “There ya go, angel.” She pats his thigh, encouragingly. “We’re a-ok. All clear.” Her eyes are feeling awfully heavy, and she buries her face against him again. “Motherfucker I’m like—” She groans as she remembers. “Fuuuuck, and I have to get up at 11 to go _ brunching_,” the word is said with such absolute disgust. “Floor eight,” she adds, in a mumble. “Eight-oh-eight.”

She spends the elevator ride tapping little patterns on his back, distractedly, mostly trying not to fall asleep. He’s big and warm and… well, comfy. And she’s dead on her feet. Except not on her feet. Dead on his back? Alex laughs to herself a bit, back to tracing his wings again.

-

After convincing her to give him the keys (half snagging them and half telling Alex it’s for her own good), Jonas is more than ready to just go home. Even if he’s toting her around like a duffle bag.

His eyes roll a bit at her antics, and Jonas pushes the door open with little effort, glancing around the apartment. It’s nothing fancy, which is familiar to him, but it’s also more than a bit of a mess.

-

They’re through the door and Alex bangs her hand on a wall as he starts heading toward her roommate’s side. “Nope— this one.”

-

Jonas searches around for less than two minutes before finding her bed and near tossing her down onto it, rolling out his shoulders just after. “If you have to be up early, you should actually go to sleep. And I am going home.”

Is he though? Is he really? _ Don’t do it, Jonas, you know how this ends. Nothing good ever comes from just being a random dude who took care of one person that one time. _ But she’s…

-

Alex is practically giddy to be thrown down on the bed. Snickering. A bit slap-happy, drunk at 5am. She can’t toe off her boots, but she makes a valiant effort before groaning and leaning over to actually pull them off. Her eyes are falling closed as she tosses them into a corner, shucking off her jacket, but she still whines to his retreating form, “Jonaaaas. Come cuddle.” When she passes out, not even a minute later, she’s still grinning.

-

Okay she’s an absolute mess. And when he checks, there’s nothing in her fridge, and-

Nope. No. Not going to. Definitely not.

…

God damn it, yes he is.

Jonas pulls out his wadded-up tips, takes hers, and then exits the apartment, leaving a shoe wedged in the door so that he’ll be able to get back in when the time comes. But as he pops his head back up, there’s the numbers to the building taped to the back of her door. So he takes that too. He’s getting groceries for a drunk girl. Completely and totally normal thing to do. Jesus Christ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, all the first three needed to go up together, so... ^^ Hope you enjoyed? Would love to hear people's thoughts. It may be a bit of a wait for chapter 4 but expect it some time in the next week or so. We just finished writing ch 15, if that gives you an idea of how things are going on our end. We'll see if we stay this productive, I suppose xD I will say, any time we're lagging, looking at comments on our other project really helps raise spirits (no pun intended). Would love to see some of that love over here as well 😇
> 
> Also _very_ curious to see reactions to the playlists. We've been listening to them on repeat while writing, even if some of the songs may not make sense quite yet I assure you that they will!


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Morning is hell.

Morning _ was _ hell, six hours ago, and now it’s worse. God. She wasn’t even blackout drunk or anything, just tired as _ fuck. _ And, okay, she’s still hungover. Just ‘cause she didn’t black out doesn’t mean she wasn’t past-buzzed last night.

Alex’s breath escapes her in the longest groan known to man. Her hand gropes blindly for the pull at the window beside her bed, and twists to let the light in. “_Fffffuuuck._” But she has a brunch to get to. And, while Ren can be surprisingly forgiving, she’d actually feel pretty bad if she stood him up when he came all this way to see her.

Somehow, she drags herself out of bed, stripping off her clothes from the night before as she hobbles to the shower. Jonas left last night - _ without cuddling_, dammit - so who cares if she’s naked in her own apartment? Leah is still out of the country, she’s alone - free reign, baby.

The too-cold water shocks her a bit back into herself, and she resists the urge to turn up the heat too much, well aware that she _ is _ capable of falling asleep in the shower, and not wanting to tempt fate. She scrubs most of the glitter from her skin, halting for a second as her heart falls: she went to sleep with glitter. Those sheets will never be clean. Dammit. She actually has to do laundry.

Exiting the shower after a hasty hair wash/leg shave combo, Alex goes through the standard ‘be suitable for public consumption’ routine; half-dried hair, clean teeth, all traces of her OTT makeup for go-go night finally cleaned off. Her stomach is growling by the time she’s shuffled back to her room, and she checks her phone. Shit— she’s meeting Ren and Nona in 40 minutes and her phone is only at 20%. Still wrapped in a towel, she heads to the kitchen to plug it in, and pauses.

Her tips from last night are wadded up on the counter, about half of what they should be.

_ That motherfucker. _

Then she sees the cup, the bottle, the note. An alka seltzer tab and a bottle of ibuprofen sit next to a glass of water and a note scrawled across the page she usually keeps taped to the back of her front door.

_Alex-_   
_ Stock your cabinets more often. Food's in the fridge._   
_ P.S: Don't leave the fucking code to your building on the door._

She just stares at the note for a second. So…

She turns to the fridge, pulling it open. Sure enough, there’s real actual food in it. Not just a couple bottles of water, a few tubes of Go-Gurt, a pack of hotdogs, pickles, and an old half-eaten container of guac. There’s actual fruit? And vegetables? There’s sandwich meat? And _ milk? _ And _ eggs?! _ Whaaaaaat even.

Alex hesitates before taking a couple painkillers and dropping the tab into the rest of the water, tapping her fingers against the side as it fizzes away.

He bought her groceries. He dealt with her the night before with more patience than she’s ever had (and she can be very patient on occasion), he handled her drunken shenanigans with grace, brought her home drunk and completely ignored her attempts to hit on him, carried her all the way up to her apartment, then _ bought her groceries _ and left something out for her hangover.

_ Holy shit.  
_

Oh God. Wait. That’s… Okay, she’s never been one for religion. She really isn’t. They didn’t grow up with it, it’s not something she’s ever bought into, but… Fuck.

No, okay, she’s— that’s not— No. She’s hungover and grateful. That’s all.

Still, checking her cupboards only to find real actual bread, honey nut cheerios, and fuckin _ dried pea snacks _ \- WHAT? This food has actual nutritional value?! And where is her 12-pack of ramen? - the suspicion takes root in the back of her mind.

Her stomach was growling a second ago, so she grabs the milk from the fridge and pours herself a bowl of cereal. And then sits, still wrapped in a towel, contemplating her sudden crisis of faith.

Some kind of cosmic plan - some kind of _ Christmas Carol _ bullshit to make her a better person - is that what this is? Guardian angels aren’t real, she logically knows that. But still.

Her phone rings. “Yup.”

“Alex, we’re gonna be at the restaurant at 12:10.” It’s Nona. Probably calling from their nice bluetooth-enabled car. They have a _ car. _ She has a _ bike. _

“Yup.”

“...And you’re gonna be…?”

“At the restaurant at noon, just to spite you.”

She hears Ren snort. “We’re gonna eat whether you’re there or not, y’know. So if you want us to foot the bill, you better show.”

“Yeah, yeah. I have my own food, you know.” Or at least now she does.

“Frozen dinners and ramen aren’t meals, Alex.”

“I’ll have you know there is a whole bag of cherries _ and _ a head of lettuce in my fridge right now.”

“...Okay, you’re lying.”

“Not sure how I’m gonna eat the lettuce, ‘cause he conveniently forgot to get me some ranch, but _ whatever_.”

“He?” Ren is instantly intrigued.

“Oh. I have. _ A story._”

“Save it for brunch,” Nona interrupts. “We’re going to go be tourists at Powell’s. See you at noonish.”

She hangs up before anyone says goodbye. Alex snorts. “Sure, yeah.” She sets her phone down again, steadily chowing down. She hasn’t had breakfast for breakfast in… ages? Apart from a Go-Gurt on her bike, but that’s not breakfast food as much as _ sugar-loaded yogurt snack for kids. _ Her thumb hovers before she convinces herself that it’s not weird at all and taps her phone back open, heading to facebook. _ Jonas Long. _

Nothing.

Well, plenty of Jonas Longs in the world, but no one nearby, no one with a profile pic that looks familiar.

_ It’s ‘cause he’s an angel, Alex, he’s an actual guardian angel and they don’t use Facebook. _

Lies. Lies and fallacies.

Shit, it’s gonna take her 20-25 minutes to walk to the place and she still needs to get dressed. ...Which means it’ll be a bike day.

-

“Sorry for the walk, Alex.”

“Oh God, it’s— no worries, it’s fine.” She waves a hand - the free hand not towing her bike along at her side. “I mean - you guys should really have a bike rack, but whatever, I’ll make do.”

“We do! Sometimes.” Ren almost looks sheepish. “Took it off for the drive down, though— better mileage.”

Alex just rolls her eyes. When are they getting married, honestly. Ren is already in millennial dad mode.

Brunch was… ugh, actually pretty good. Even if she hates to admit it. Even if she _ especially _ hates admitting that Ren’s maximum-hipster avocado toast actually tasted delicious, when she stole (more than) a few bites. She’ll still stick to the story that her french toast was the best possible option. The mimosas were excellent as well. So was the absolute disbelief on her friends’ faces over hearing her story about the night before. The only crappy part of brunch was exiting the restaurant to a flat tire, thanks to a puncture she must’ve missed on the way over. So now she’s stuck walking her bike back to her apartment. At least she’s got company.

“Any more thoughts about joining us on the hike tomorrow?” Nona sounds interested but not too hopeful, and Alex sends her an apologetic look.

“What time?”

“10am.”

She lets out a long breath. “I’m sorry, guys. I really am. I’m still dead from last night and have another long shift tonight. I would, really, but…” She shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

Ren waves her off. “No, no, it’s fine. We’ll do something that night. I still wanted-” He glances to Nona, then shrugs. “We’ll hang.”

Alex knows she should be inviting them to just come chill at her apartment since they’re walking there anyway, but she bites her lip. It’s kind of a mess. _ She’s _ kind of a mess. God, they just… they have their lives so together.

“Wait, we turn here? Up and over?”

“Ten blocks or so.” The words spark a memory, and Alex lights up as she glances around. “Oh shit— hold on to this for a second?” Her bike is hardly out of her hands before she’s jogging over to the warehouse building - open now, a kind of open-air gym - her bike lock slung cross-bodied and thumping against her side. The place is pretty cool, if she were into that sort of thing.

She tips her sunglasses up onto her forehead, shading her eyes to look inside. Sure enough, multicolored wings are visible on a body toward the back corner. God. Yeah, that had to be some kind of miracle, people aren’t that hot.

Making a gesture to the gym employee at the entrance, motioning that she’ll just be a sec, wants to say hi to someone, she steps inside. He’s distracted - or, not distracted, just very focused. He can’t be real. He just can’t. Real people don’t look like romance novel love interests made flesh. Real people don’t have the most insane Intense™ gazes like he does. Or the arms, holy fuck. She tries to get a look at the piece covering one shoulder, but can’t exactly examine it fully as he thuds away against a punching bag.

Alex grins. Oh. This will be good.

She doesn’t quite tiptoe, but she does carefully maneuver herself into position before running forward, pouncing on him with her arms around his neck, like she stands any chance of tackling him, shades clattering off the side of the mat. “Jojo!”

-

Last night had been more than odd. He’d picked up groceries for Alex, unpacked them, wrote her a little note - because he was in a ‘damned if you do and damned if you don’t’ situation - and then trudged his way back home to go to bed. When his alarm had buzzed sometime around noon, he’d still regretted it. But now that he’s doing something else, preoccupied, Jonas is just a bit more thankful for what he’d done. If she wanted to thank him for it, she knew where he worked. And besides, he’d left her untouched. Which meant she probably wasn’t going to call the cops on him. Probably.

Upon searching instagram for Alex, he’d found a few potential matches, but he didn’t quite have enough information on her to do much else other than search. He’d had to remind himself multiple times _ why _he was searching, most of which were excuses, but it made him feel better about the whole deal of leaving a drunk girl asleep in her apartment. Which wasn’t even that bad, without context. If he could say he was actually her friend, that would probably make it better, but. Basically strangers. Basically.

Jonas had gotten himself up and out of the house by the time the clock had rolled around one, and headed for the gym almost instantly, because he needed the workout and his shift didn’t start for another few hours. If he really wanted sleep, he could just head home and take a power nap or something. Easy. Or at least, it would be easy, if Alex hadn’t randomly snuck up on him in the middle of working through a boxing set.

With his earbuds in and eyes focused on the bag in front of him, Jonas would only have noticed her if he turned around right then. He’s counting his strikes — _ right, left left, right, up _ — and then something is around his neck. Which turns out to be a person, once he’s gotten a better grip on them. The gloves mean he can’t exactly grab them easily, but he still backs away from the bag with record speed, managing to get a hold on some extremity near his throat to flip them over his shoulders and onto the mats below.

He’s on autopilot when he twists her arm underneath one of her shoulders and pins it there, the other trapped by his heel and pressed down until he can feel the muscles shift in an agonizing way. And then Jonas registers the face. “Alex?”

-

She’s breathless. Utterly out of breath. Whatever wasn’t knocked from her by the throw is lost when her eyes go wide, because _ holy shit_. God. This is a problem. Because now she’s thinking about the last guy she was with who could just toss her around and god, the sex had been so good until it all went down in flames. How it usually was when she stayed with someone for the sex. Or maybe she just went for people of a similar degree of mess to herself. What can she say, she likes it wild and rough. And he’s bein’ _ just the right amount _ of rough.

Alex’s face is flushed, lids low and pupils dilating, a grin coming over her features as she sucks in a breath through her teeth, not quite wincing at the pressure making her shoulder ache. She doesn’t mind it as much as she should. (_Masochist, _ some part of her chides. She tells it to fuck off.) A tiny noise of exertion escapes her mouth before she manages a panted, “Hey, angel.” Her eyes suddenly take in the rest of him - and oh God, there’s a lot of him and he’s sweaty and she’s utter trash for muscles and tattoos - and light up upon seeing the ink on his chest.

She wiggles a bit, getting her feet planted enough to bridge her hips up and free an arm, even if she’s having to squeak and pant and struggle a bit to do so. He let up slightly upon realizing it was her, otherwise she’s pretty sure she’d be going nowhere. But with enough wiggle room - and enough determination on her part - she frees a hand with a soft sound of triumph. Immediately, her fingers go for his chest, ignoring the scripture on one side to run over the knot detailed on the other. Some kind of Celtic thing maybe? It’s very cool. Worked into a larger piece covering the top of his arm. “Nice.”

-

“_Aaaah_— Shit, sorry, oh my God-” He definitely didn’t mean to toss her around like a sack of fucking potatoes. At least, not this time. Last night it had been more out of necessity since she couldn’t really walk. Jonas tugs one of his earbuds out so that he can actually hear her, though he pauses when he registers the nickname. _Angel._ If it weren’t for the blood already rushing because of his routine, he’d be more flushed than a tomato. Especially when she just reaches out to fucking touch him without an invite. He isn’t going to complain, but he is pulling away from her, undoing one of his gloves with his teeth so that he can slide a hand out to offer it for help.

Once he’s made sure that no, she’s not about to bruise herself because of the shit he just pulled and no, she’s not just _ randomly _ touching his chest, because that was kind of weird and he has some issues with that, Jonas is more than happy to stay where he is. Half standing half kneeling above her, still with his one free hand extended so they can both get off the mats. She’s not nearly as flamboyant as last night- no pink-and-white pleather, just shorts and a tank top, those same combat boots. It’s a better look for her, in his opinion. Another pair of footsteps pops up behind them, and he turns his head enough to spot blondie and his girl on their way over.

“Wow, Al, way to go! Get tossed onto the ground by some big burly… Okay wow you are _ ripped. _”

“...Thanks?”

-

Alex ignores the offered hand, happy to stay on her back, thanks. She grins to her friends. “First off, Ren, you have a long-term girlfriend-”

“He can look-”

“I can look!” Ren defends himself, though Nona had already shrugged off Alex’s allegation.

“_Secondly_— Guys, this is Jonas. Jojo, these are my friends Ren and Nona.”

“Cool tattoos.” Nona’s voice is level, but she shoots Alex an accusatory glance. Alex’s grin widens.

“Ren and Nona are dear old friends of mine - disgustingly responsible - who should really go ahead and tie the knot already.” She’s speaking teasingly, but doesn’t miss the pink flushing over Ren’s ears and neck. “Jonas is the man who threw me down on the bed last night.”

-

“Not—” Jonas makes an exasperated noise, shaking his head as he starts fitting his glove back on again. This isn’t something he expected to happen, but hey, guess it’s fucking happening. “I carried her back home, is all. No big.”

“And bought her groceries.”

He shoots an incredulous look at Alex, lips tipping into a frown as the blond - Ren - goes on.

“And left out some pain meds for her. Thanks for taking care of my friend, by the way.”

-

Alex half-shrugs at Jonas’s pointed look, batting her eyelashes with faux innocence even as she grins. Best friends. Had to say something about it.

-

“No problem.”

“Didn’t expect you to be so jacked outside the bar, though.”

Nona, the girlfriend, interrupts him. “Good to meet you, Jonas.” At least she’s smiling.

He returns it. “Yeah. Kind of wish it was under better circumstances, considering Alex just scared the _ shit _ out of me.”

-

“Yeah, she does that.”

Alex rolls her eyes at Ren’s offhanded comment, and he snickers. “I’m all about keepin’ you on your toes,” she waves a hand dismissively. “Constant vigilance!”

“Riiight.” Nona shakes her head. “You know, one day you’re gonna get seriously hurt from doing something like this.”

Alex scoffs, stretching out on the mat and rolling back her shoulders before sitting up to lean back on her palms. “Aw, c’mon. Jonas would never hurt me, would you Jojo?” She pats the top of his sneaker.

-

“Still don’t like you calling me Jojo, but I don’t have plans on it.” Not yet at least. Alex is kind of toeing the line, even if she’s trying to be coy about the whole thing. Which really isn’t working.

-

“Not unless I ask-”

“Alex, stop talking.” Ren just barely has a chance to interrupt her, and rolls his eyes at her wolfish smirk. “Christ.” He holds out a hand, and when she doesn’t take it, comes around behind her, wedging his arms under hers to lift. “Let’s go get you some water, you thirsty girl.”

She snorts, but helps him out and pulls herself to her feet. Once up, she brushes herself off, and shoots a genuine grin at Jonas. “I really do want to say thanks, though. For helping me out last night.”

-

“Yeah, well. Serial killers are very much a thing, and letting a girl walk herself home half drunk wasn’t exactly on my to-do list.” Once the glove is back on, Jonas leaves his earbud out, but goes back to hammering home on the punching bag. _ Left left, right, up, right right, repeat and reverse. _ He’s still talking. “Especially not at 5AM when she has business to attend to the next day. I’ve been in that position before.”

A few times too many. Jonas can still feel eyes on him as he continues, half focused on the routine and half on the conversation. He’s done it before, both with his own students and with friends, though he’s figured out a system that works. There’s a lull to his blows whenever someone starts talking. They hit faster, but they’re softer, so that he can hear what’s actually being said to him.

“What, half drunk and stumbling down the avenue? Kinda hard to picture.” He can almost hear the grin in Ren’s voice. “Especially when you look like this.”

“Ren. C’mon.” Nona nudges her quietly snickering boyfriend, and Jonas resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Different kind of drunk.”

“_Ooooh, _ blood drunk?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

-

Alex, for once, isn’t talking, just following along with the conversation, adjusting the bike lock and rubbing where it had dug in against her ribs. She shoots Jonas a curious look, but doesn’t ask. She’s set aside flirtation for now, now that she’s not pinned under him, and leans her elbow on Ren’s shoulder to stretch out her quads. The struggle had been fun, but unexpected, and she’s feeling it.

“Anyway, angel. Lemme pay you back some time.” It’s not a come-on, just an invitation, and it’s sincere. “Come in to the Island, I’ll set you up a tab, comp you some drinks. Nothing outrageous, but I can extend a little credit. I’m working tonight, if you’re free. Or before midnight tomorrow. If not, any time Thursday through Sunday. Come hit me up.” She’s settled back into something a lot more relaxed, now that she’s let the rush wear off.

“...And now we let Hot Jonas return to his workout.” Ren pats her on the shoulder, ushering her away.

“And now we let Hot Jonas return to his workout,” Alex agrees, rolling her eyes and snorting a laugh as she follows.

-

His left hand pauses halfway to the bag when they both call him the nickname in tandem. It’s not enough for them to notice, seeing as they’ve already turned away, but… Yeah that was more than a bit odd for him to hear. Though getting the invitation to the club was another story entirely. Usually Jonas would say it isn’t his scene, try to blow the whole thing off, but she’s already walking away with the rest of her group. Which means that isn’t really an option. Without needing to work tonight, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to either go or ditch. His mother’s manners might have gotten drilled further into him than he originally thought.

_ A nice girl invited you, Jonas. _ Yeah, the nice girl that had been hounding him for free drinks last night, that would sure be a trip. Great. He goes back to trying to focus on his punches, the routine, keeping her and her friends out of his head entirely. It gets easier as time passes, when he works into the rhythm again, pausing only to put his earbuds back in properly so that he can ignore the rest of the world.

-

They’re almost out of the gym when Alex pauses at the desk. “Mind if I just leave a note?” The guy on duty shrugs, and Alex reaches for the pen and one of the gym’s business cards.

_ Can’t promise I won’t accidentally drunk dial you, but at least you’ll know who’s calling. _

She writes in her number, signs it with a flourish, folds it in half. “If you can get that to Jonas?” She hands it off with a, “Thanks,” before leaving with Ren and Nona.

Faltering for a second, Alex runs for her bike. “Shit, you just left it here?” It’s been propped up against a tree outside, not even locked or anything. Poor baby.

“It’s got a flat, Alex, and you disappeared.”

She runs a hand over the frame, feeling for the little toolkit tucked up under the saddle, screwing the cap on the end of the handlebars on tighter to make sure her little secret compartment is safe. She’s rarely worried about it when it’s chilling in the back room of the Island or locked up on the monitored rack outside her apartment building, but she doesn’t just leave it out on the street. That’s her meal ticket.

Once assured that, yes, her precious bean is safe, she resumes walking.

“Anyway.” She’s leading the way, heading for her apartment. “See, I told you. He’s like weirdly hot and too nice.” She didn’t share her half-considered angel theory over brunch, but had definitely mentioned the weird behavior, and they’d debated on Good Christian Boy-ness. The discussion seems to be turning that way again, until Ren suddenly interrupts himself.

“Actually - sorry - hon, you wanna go back and get the car from the garage? I kinda wanna talk to Alex alone for a second.”

Nona hesitates, a little confused. Understandable. Ren is just a li’l bit clingy.

“I should clarify: Alex’s apartment is probably a mess and I, as best friend, need to begin the lecture now, while she can’t escape.”

That draws a smile and Nona waves them off, heading back the direction they’d come as Ren turns to Alex and they resume their walk.

“So. Alex, it is my duty, as best friend-” his voice drops low for a second. “To inform you that I’m gonna propose to Nona this week.”

Alex staggers for a second, enough to hit her boots against the pedals of her bike. “Oh.” She quickly regains her footing, maybe even picking up her pace. Seven more blocks. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Ren has a bemused half-smile on his face. “I was sort of expecting some kind of congratulations?”

“No! I mean, yes! Congrats!” She’s stumbling over her words now, instead of her feet, but tries to give him an encouraging grin, even if it falters. “I just— you’re kinda young, right?”

He huffs out a laugh, but Alex can sense the discomfort in it even as he’s rolling his eyes, and regrets saying anything. “We’ve been living together for two years, Alex.” Oh God, it’s been that long? “And before that, dating on and off for another… five? Six? It’s been a long time coming, personally.”

“I’m— No, you’re totally right. I’m just… surprised, is all.” Okay. So her best friend is getting married. Maybe. Assuming Nona says yes. “You guys have talked about this?”

Ren has his hands jammed into his shorts pockets. “Yeah. Well, not in exactly those terms, but… we’ve theorized. Talked about planning for the future. And we’re both super stable right now, I’ve even got a 401k thing going - like, this is _ adult life_, Alex. And I want to spend it with her.”

Adult life. So what is she living? Alex feels a little dizzy, but she holds on tighter to her bike. It’s kind of a crutch at the moment. “That’s… wow, Ren.”

“You’re really givin’ me some bad vibes, Alex…” he trails off. “Should… should I be worried, or…?”

“No, not worried - God, not worried at all,” she manages a laugh, even if it’s a little breathless. _ Don’t worry about me. Just a quarter life crisis kicking off over here. _ “I’m— I’m so happy for you guys, wow.”

“I mean-” Ren laughs, and it’s a lot lighter than hers was. “She hasn’t said yes yet, so… I guess we shouldn’t celebrate _ too _ soon.”

“Still. Good for you, Ren.” The look she shoots him is softer than Alex usually is. Genuine, if a little blindsided. She _ is _ happy for them. She’s just… Surprised. Really surprised. She’s had friends get married before, but they were college friends, usually older than her by a few years, people she knew from work. This is _ Ren_. This is her best friend. Christ, they’re only 25. Fuck - _ she’s _ only 25.

He’s been talking, but Alex’s ears are ringing, and she’s missed some of it - which only makes her feel more guilty. “...And, lemme tell you, thank God she wears rings, ‘cause asking her size woulda been a dead giveaway, really-”

Only two more blocks. Two more.

“-Which is why you aren’t invited along, sorry. But you have that dance thing you do Tuesdays anyway, right?”

Alex nods, holding that pleasant smile. Yeah. She might have to pregame a little harder than usual, but at least she’ll have _ someone’s _ arms around her while Ren is off adulting. Not completely alone. She has friends. _ Friends that are also in stable relationships. _ Nope, can’t think about that. She needs to remember that she’s legitimately happy for them. She is. Really. Honest.

“...So where can Nona park when she comes around?”

They’ve reached her apartment building, and Alex is a little ashamed of the relief that comes when she realizes her lack of forethought. “Oh— shit, sorry Ren, I— Since I don’t have a car, I just rent out my parking space to our neighbors, so… sorry.”

“It’s cool, we’ll take a guest spot-”

“Actually, I was kinda hoping to get a couple hours of sleep in before my shift.”

“...Oh.”

“And my apartment is kinda… not safe for human consumption?”

“Is that legal?”

They banter back and forth a bit more, killing time waiting for Nona, and the chatter lets her anxiety fade a bit. Lets her rationalize things to herself. As long as she doesn’t think about it too much, she can just be happy for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy another chapter. We just finished writing chapter 17, so I figured I'm allowed to post another, so hope you enjoyed! No moodboard this time around, though we've still been listening to [Alex](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187634198065) and [Jonas](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/187653972290)'s playlists on repeat while writing, so if you haven't checked those out you definitely should. Also- first comment! Yay!
> 
> [If you want to get involved in some kind of Jonalex community, hit me up on [tumblr](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/) or [discord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoTurns/profile).]


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Was this the plan? No. Is he still here? Yes. 

Alex leaving him her number at the front desk was more than a bit odd, but he’d still programmed it into his phone, more out of the polite ideals of the century than anything else. And, if she calls, at least he’ll know who it is. Jonas had been right about one thing though; the Island isn’t his usual scene. At all. Party-goers and pimps all around, or at least that’s how he’d describe the whole thing. He’s never been one for all the flashing lights and moving bodies. For nearly 30 minutes now he’s just been leaned up against a wall, glancing over the people who pass by, and glaring at any that have the interest or the balls to stare. Those are few and far in between.

Getting his footing would be a good way to describe it. Trying to remember how to act, what he knows about the place, and who exactly is working the bar at the moment. One of those things is obvious - he can spot Alex’s bright hair even halfway across the dance floor - but the rest only comes with observation. As long as he keeps his mouth shut, no one messes with him, and the Island is a club. Jonas can be just another face in the crowd by the end of the night. He’ll most certainly be fine with that.

It takes him another few minutes to pick himself up off of the wall, curving his way through the swarm of people through a mixture of butting shoulders and excused glances. Salmon swimming against the stream. A shit metaphor, but it works, because people don’t want to move and he has places to be at the moment. It feels better to be away from the pits and at the bar, but Jonas doesn’t bother sitting down. At least, he won’t until he has a drink in his hand. That might loosen him up enough to actually get him talking to people. He isn’t exactly antisocial, just… Not as energetic. God this really isn’t his usual MO, and it’s kind of making him uncomfortable? But that’s fine. He can tough it out for free alcohol.

-

She’s at the turning point in her shift, and it’s exactly what she needed. Having to focus on multiple things at once - dealing with people, and drinks, and the POS system - all underscored with music that she really doesn’t mind— it lets her brain work in the moment. And it’s something Alex is _ good _ at, which is reassuring. That she's capable of something. That she’s useful. That she’s needed. ‘Cause this place wouldn’t be doing nearly so well without her, not tonight.

She’s hit her stride, smoothly running her well and picking up the slack for others, all grins and laughs and reassurances. Sundays aren’t as packed as Saturdays, but it’s summer and they’re still pretty busy. There’s a slight lull in the action, and Alex is clearing a couple empty glasses from the counter when she spots him. She’d already been in a good mood, because work does that for her, but upon seeing him she lights up even more. “Hey! You made it!”

The stools at the bar are rarely ever used, tucked underneath as people mostly just come and go while dancing, but she taps the bar in an invitation to sit. “What’ll it be, angel? I’m giving you a $30 tab, on me, for as long as it lasts; use it wisely.”

-

Jonas rolls his eyes a bit at the nickname, kicking a bar stool out from underneath the counter to settle himself. “I guess that’s sticking, then. Just a Guinness is fine.”

Thirty dollar tab. He’s going to blow through that within the night, based on the prices at this place. The Island doesn’t exactly seem high-class, but it certainly isn’t a ‘let everyone who wants to enter, enter’ kind of place, based off of the bouncers out front. Some girl had helped him get in, probably because the guy out front had been pretty goddamn confused to see him. And maybe a little intimidated. Jonas had been proud of that, at least, but the girl (he thinks her name was Maddie) had almost certainly been trying to earn his favor. She hasn’t shown up again though, which means he isn’t going to be avoiding her all night. Another perk of being able to get lost in the crowd.

-

Alex’s eyes narrow at his comment on the nickname, some part of her considering her little tally of weirdly angel-like things he’s done, but goes for the cooler and grabs a can, pops it open, then flips a glass out over her palm, giving the can a second to settle before doing the fancy-schmancy _ are you doing it the right way _ pour. She knows this stuff. She _ has _ to know this stuff; some people are really fuckin’ picky about beer.

“So.” She passes over the glass, then leans on her palms on her side of the bar top. “You don’t work Sunday nights?” For some reason she thought he did? Had he mentioned something about it? Admittedly, she’s not always great at remembering personal details, when they’re not attached to paychecks, but she coulda sworn he said something. Maybe it was about the boxing thing?

Her eyes flick down the bar a bit, “Sorry, just—” Holding up a finger, she moves down to get the man’s order - nodding, smiling that crooked smile as she tosses out a teasing joke before assuring him she’s got it all, give her a sec. Shooting an apologetic look to Jonas, she fills the order in record time, no fancy bottlework, no tricks, just speedy, before coming back. “Sorry.”

-

He just nods his head to both the question and her sudden disappearance, nursing the cup as he watches her work. It’s something he’s used to, having to stop in the middle of a conversation, but at least Alex has perfected the strange art of getting through it quickly. Something even he flubs sometimes. “Sundays are my usual free days. Reggie takes care of the bar with Daniel, and I usually get a full night’s sleep. For once.”

Every other day, he’s working with clients, serving the bar, or sleeping. Or getting food. Your general survival skills for adulthood. Jonas is at least trying to drink slowly, both to keep Alex from having to fill cups every five seconds and so that he can waste as much time here as possible. He knows how fast nights go, even if it’s usually a blur, and she’s being… oddly professional?

Well not really odd. It’s just a contrast to how he’s seen her before. Drunk and tossed over his shoulder, and then thrown on the mats, and it’s more jarring to see Alex working normally than it is to see her in public. Which is both a blessing and a curse. Maybe he’ll actually be able to hold a conversation for once.

-

“Daniel— that’s the owner, right?” She’s managing to keep her eyes on him even as she’s filling some woman’s ask for a vodka tonic (boring). “How long have you been working at the Kanaloa, then? You’re not a local, so you… moved here for school?”

For once, she’s not flirting shamelessly. Mostly ‘cause she’s spending so much time in front of him that someone will get the wrong idea if she’s being too flirtatious. Even the appearance of being single can be helpful, in an environment like this. Unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately, since she’s… always single. Even when in a relationship. Ugh, nope, stop thinking about depressing lonely things.

-

“Yup. Started it a good few years ago, way before I joined up. Used to live down in North Valley, but I kinda needed to…” Get away from everything that happened. Stop dealing with the people who knew about his record - who _ extended _ his record. Find a place where he actually felt like he could breathe fresh air for once. “Restart, I guess. Now I’ve set up roots.”

-

Huh. Alex raises an eyebrow, because that sounds like a story that’s not being told, but he doesn’t elaborate. So she shakes her head, looks away, shoots a smile at someone approaching the bar with that ‘time to settle up’ look about him, and excuses herself again to close out his tab.

-

The question had caught Jonas’s attention, though there’s a lull in their conversation as he swirls his glass back and forth, waiting for her to return. “You said you had friends from back home— means you aren’t a local, either. Just come here for the party scene?” It’s a bit of a jab, but he’s got that signature half-smile on his face, just a little paced for the public eye. Not his usual _ cool bartender _ look, but something similar.

-

Back in a flash, still with that thank-you smile on, Alex settles in front of him again before he voices his own question. Her smile hooks into a smirk, shooting him a sidelong glance at the subtle teasing. “Grew up by the coast, actually— Camena. After school I knew I wanted to be in a city - not _ just _ for the party scene, just ‘cause they’re more interesting. More to do, in general. Slow towns bore me. But I wanted to stay on the West coast… It was gonna be Portland, Seattle, or somewhere down in SoCal, but I didn’t want to deal with the heat, so. Here we are.”

Her gaze skirts away again, focusing on straightening the bar caddy in front of her station. “And this way my mom is still just a few hours away.” Not that she ever visits. And thank God for that. And her dad… well, her dad hasn’t talked to her in years, really. After getting remarried, his old family is just… reminders. “Any siblings?” she shoots back, glancing up again. Not that she’s thinking of Michael. Not that she’s _ always _ thinking about Michael. Ugh. Why did she ask. Right: because even when being professional, there’s not nearly enough filter between her brain and her mouth.

-

Jonas shakes his head a bit, “None that I’m aware of. Been an only child since forever, basically.” There’s a pause when he glances back, and spots the wonder girl from before. Maddie. She hasn’t noticed him yet, and he’s not about to draw attention to himself, so he just leans further on the bar and takes another swig from his drink. “What about you? Anyone I should watch out for, considering I flipped you over my shoulders earlier today?”

-

Alex’s smile falters for a second. “Not really.” She rolls her palm forward on the edge of the well, pressing hard against the dates on her wrist. _ Not anymore. _ She’s so distracted that she doesn’t even make a cheeky comment about her free flight earlier. Clearing her throat, she looks away again, checking down the bar. But it looks like Mick is handling most of the traffic down at her end at this point, as things slow down a little.

“So you moved here for school, got a job at the Kanaloa… how did the boxing start?” The interrogation is kinda nice, when she’s the one asking. Being asked is… not as good.

God. She needs a drink.

-

That means he hit a nerve. Jonas is quick enough to backpedal, because he isn’t here to dredge up bad memories, and it seems like that’s exactly what he’d just done. Though getting asked about the boxing is a bit of a distraction. “Mostly because I joined up with the gym. I didn’t originally plan on teaching people, but someone needed a personal trainer, said I caught their eye… kinda went from there. Keeps me in shape, at least. Gets me free classes.”

And keeps him from pummeling random people on the street. Even if he hasn’t done that in years. Even if he hasn’t really _ thought _ about doing that in years. Which is probably a good thing. But it’s also looming over his head - like one of those old factory ‘____ days without an incident_’ boards.

-

Focused on his answers, it’s a little easier to get playful again. “Mmhm, ‘caught their eye,’ sure,” Alex laughs. She’s still not looking at him, though she does glance up with a half smile at the _ keeps me in shape. _ “Not gonna say anything about that,” she comments, playing with a spare bottle, absently. “I’m on the clock.”

The music changes, and without an order to fill, Alex is left tapping her foot, flipping the bottle a few times to keep her hands busy. “I have to say, I’m kinda surprised you showed. Doesn’t seem like your scene. I thought you had an aversion to partying,” she grins, getting bolder with both her words and actions, tossing the bottle from behind her back. She learned to juggle for this career. Well, kind of. Learned it ‘cause her hands were bored; got better ‘cause she had to keep upping the ante.

-

He manages not to snort at her comments. “Aversion to partying is one way to put it. I’m not antisocial - or at least, I don’t think I am - but big events like this aren’t really my forte. Never have been. Introverted would be a better way to put it, I guess? I dunno. I’m rambling.” Jonas is definitely rambling. Spilling personal info isn’t his forte, either, but Alex is a bartender, and so is he. Comes with the territory a bit.

The pint is empty, and he’s fine for now without a refill. Instead he listens to the hollow noise of the glass circling on the bar top as he moves it back and forth, still checking over his shoulder every so often. It isn’t exactly paranoid— more like the need to make sure someone isn’t about to pop up and scare him. More jumpy than when he’s behind the bar, that’s for sure. “You look like you’re thriving on the energy, though. Explains why you chose to work the Island instead of the many, many other options.”

-

“Thanks, I think,” she shoots him a narrow-eyed glance, but it’s teasing. She knows it’s more compliment than unflattering observation. “‘_Thriving_’ is a nicer way to put it than what I usually get.” It’s a grim smile, but she shrugs it off. “And this place has pricier drinks, which means better autograt and tips in general. Plus, they wanted some eye candy, so…” Alex rolls her eyes. Typical club stuff, really. She’d much rather be a bartender than be part of the bottle service crew at some places. Or working some resort like Cancun. The bar is protection and power. Here she’s a legitimate employee. With skills. Even if part of her hire was probably based on looks. Whatever. It pays the rent.

“I’ve worked other spots. They were plenty of fun, and I could wear flannels when I wanted,” which was often, “but this pays a hell of a lot better.” She’s been bartending on and off since she wasn’t even legally allowed to do it. Though, technically, she’d been employed as a barback before she started learning the trade. Now she has a nice handful of solid references, even if she got bored and moved on after however many months.

“Plus-” she lets out a laugh, “It’s not like I care about showing some skin, not in _ this _ heat.” Not if there wasn’t anyone actually getting too close. As long as no one was being a dick about it. And she hasn’t had any kind of safety issues here so far. Even heading home at 4am. So it seems promising, despite her worries to the contrary. So far, this neighborhood at least is better than the place she’d worked straight out of college. That had been… Well. Suffice it to say, she’d stopped wearing heels. Too paranoid.

-

Nicer than she usually gets. …Yeah, that’s about par for the course.

Jonas has to act fast when another Guinness ends up slid his way, Alex’s coworker motioning behind him as he turns around. Maddie’s made another appearance. She takes a seat just one stool over from him, a big grin on her face. He does his best to return the favor, glancing over the drink before she starts talking again.

“Figured you might want another. Saw you drinking it beforehand, so…” She’s doing the thing. The thing where a girl twirls her hair between her fingers and hides her face a bit. Cute, admittedly, but not really his go-to.

“I should be the one buying you drinks, for helping me out at the door.”

She’s giggling. Also kind of cute. “Oh, that wasn’t anything to bleed over. Just a little bit of a favor in return would be fine.”

“Name your price.”

-

Admittedly, part of Alex is a little annoyed to be interrupted. But she takes it in stride. Besides, having Mick take over an order she should’ve filled is reminder enough that she’s been paying too much attention to Jonas. Pulling an apologetic face for a second at Mick, getting a good-natured eye roll in return, Alex helps pick up some of the extra patrons on the other end of things. When she glances back to her guest, he’s smiling at li’l miss dimples.

If she’s trying to build up a friendship with this guardian angel guy, the least she can do is help him get a date, right? Since he obviously hasn’t returned her flirting. And this girl is kind of... adorable? So she slides back to her spot just in time to take an order, smiling broadly. “He’s already got a tab going, hon, but I’m happy to add something to it?” Eyebrows raised in a slightly cheeky look at Jonas. _ Well look who’s pulling tail at the Island. And he said he didn’t even like clubs. _ She’s not too sore over it. No right to be, anyway, so she won’t be.

-

Jonas makes an almost accusatory noise, but Maddie seems more than happy to order a Tequila Sunrise, moving just a bit closer to him so they can talk. It doesn’t bother him as much as he’d originally thought. Having Alex wingwoman for him is a bit… weird? Especially since she’d been flirting with him both today and the day before that, but he isn’t complaining. Of course the girl banks instantly on talking about his tattoos, because that’s where most people go to. Wanting to hear the stories on them, how he’d gotten them, did it hurt, etc etc etc. Though she isn’t unpleasant about her advances. If Jonas had to peg her attitude on something, it’d be more ‘southern belle’ than Alex’s ‘avid barfly.’

Wait. Why is he comparing her to Alex? That is— okay, too early for that. Technically, it’s too early for either of them. At least he’s known _ her _ for more than just a night. Wouldn’t be his first time in the moment, but he hasn’t had an actual one night stand in at least a year. Jonas’s drinks are probably kicking in just a little bit, that must be it. Which means he’s probably going to make some pretty stupid choices. Also par for the course. He isn’t surprised when she slips him a napkin with her name and number on it, though he probably won’t need that tonight, based on the current conversation.

-

It’s not exactly polite to listen in on conversations, so Alex goes back to what she _ should’ve _ been doing anyway: her job. She glances over, or pauses nearby a few times, at least once to refill the girl’s drink and wiggle her eyebrows at Jonas with a bit of a smirk. It’s maybe a little weird to be so on board for hooking this guy up with someone else, but— well, she’d probably fucked it up coming into his place and getting wasted and… Well, he’s too classy for her. Too upstanding. She’s a bit of a mess, and he’s obviously better than that. But he’s also a seriously good guy. A guy she’d really like to keep as a friend. And a guy who _ totally _ deserves to bang this chick. So yeah, she’s gonna do everything she can.

Apparently there’s some guy getting married soon, ‘cause about 25 minutes later a well-pickled bachelor party shows up, and Alex grins. Absolute idiots, but in a way they’re incredibly entertaining. And good for tips, if things are going well. After a bit of goading from the boys, she and Mick double up on a little show, and Alex is so grateful that someone else wasted their time learning useless shit like bottle tricks, ‘cause they get a lovely ovation and, while the orders are a little jumbled because everyone’s trying to order for everyone at the same time, when the group head onto the dance floor she and Mick share a high five in passing, grinning at one another for a job well done. Ten minutes of work made her more than the last hour. And they sprung for shots for the lovely lady bartenders who helped them out. The good stuff. And her favorite: _ tequila_. Nice.

She doesn’t head back to Jonas until she catches li’l miss dimples on her way out, and when she gets back to him he’s tucking away a napkin. “You’re welcome,” she grins, bobbing a sarcastic curtsy, and jerks her head toward the exit. “Cute kid.” _ Kid_. Like the girl isn’t right around their age. Benefits of being a bartender: you get to treat everyone else like you’re older and wiser. Excellent perk. “I’ll admit, I totally forgot about the cover. Next time I’ll just have you on the list. Make it easier for everyone.” She’s a bit flush with the high of attention as well as the tequila flowing in her veins. Bright. Happy. It’s a good look for her.

-

Jonas really wants to flick her in the forehead, or at least be generally annoying, but the bar is too wide and he’s not really in the mood. Which is rare. People tend to think he’s more sour than he is, or at least more intimidating— And how can he blame them, built like he is? So he’s used to either sticking out like a sore thumb or blending in as best he can. Having a conversation with a girl, and an entertaining one at that, isn’t how he’d imagined he’d be spending his night. Maddie is sweet, and he was being more laid back than usual. Saying Alex is a good influence on him would be a stretch, but… Eh. Technically it’s right. Very, _ very _ technically.

“_Thank you. _ If I even should be. Abandoning me to go play parlor tricks while I get shamelessly hit on, that’s totally how you do your job.” It’s easy to tell he’s joking. Jonas starts to stand up, takes out a wad of cash, places it absentmindedly onto the counter. Good service, and a good end to what started out as a bit of a shitty night. “Could’ve warned me about the doorman, though. Pain to get through when people expect you to start shit.” There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as he watches the party-goers jump through to the dance floor, snorting softly at how they stumble over one another. It’s almost a different side of him. Less of the formal, uptight view most people get. Jonas is still in his usual stance, leaned up against the bar and watching the crowd, but it’s softer somehow. More relaxed when his head tips to the side to follow Maddie as long as he can catch the bounce of her curls.

He doesn’t expect it to work out, or amount to more than a one night stand, but she’s cute and Jonas doesn’t have any qualms about the idea.

-

“I serve drinks and I make life a little easier, it’s the job description. And your life will be easier if you loosen up a little, Jonas.” No angel, no Jojo. Just Jonas. Genuine. Alex tucks his cash away with the rest of her tips (look, she tipped him, it’s fair), watches him watching the rest of the club, and huffs a laugh. “God, I have to wonder what you’re like drunk. One day I’m gonna see it and I’m gonna be absolutely _ delighted. _ You owe me one, after last night. You see me sloshed, I see you sloshed. It’s like that thing with roommates.” There’s a bit of mischief in her look, but it’s warm, not sharp.

She catches his glance to the southern belle. “Go get ‘er, angel.” It’s back, that nickname. Because it’s fitting, for him. God, he’s just… so good. How the hell is she gonna keep him around? Well, wingwomaning for him seems like a good start. “She’s adorable and only tipsy, so your morality is unquestionable,” she teases. “Seriously, go get some.”

-

“My morality is what now?” He’s distracted, and it’s easy to tell he’s distracted. Though after reviewing the comment in his head a bit, Jonas just rolls his eyes at her, picking himself up off of the bar to go and follow after Maddie. “You know, I’m still surprised you’re sticking to that nickname. And you’re _ never _ going to see me drunk. At least, not if I can help it. You have your own roommate, and I live alone. No plans on acting a fuckin’ fool.”

-

“You’re not gonna lose your wings over it, that’s all I’m saying.” She bites back a comment about his living situation, ‘cause now is not the time to flirt— he probably doesn’t get that she does that… a lot. Like a lot a lot. So she swallows the comment. “Just… go have fun.” Alex waves him away. “…Night, Jonas.”

-

He’s out of earshot when a voice comes from her left. “…So. …Did you just get your heart broken, or was than an ex, or…?” Mick has slowly paced her way up next to Alex as they both watch Jonas leave, one eyebrow raised at her coworker. Of course it isn’t her business, but she’s intrigued. “‘Cause he was a catch. Like, a real fucking looker. Just saying.”

-

Alex gives her a raised eyebrow. “…No.” It’s flat, but amused. “He works at a bar down the street. I was a bit of a plastered mess and figured I owed him one.” Her eyes look to the exit again. “Also: yes. And I did try. Like I said: utterly plastered.” She grins. Mick grins back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyy more bartender au! 
> 
> Super shout out to AvPraeda for [this OMG YAYY art](https://artpraeda.tumblr.com/post/187768564242/basically-how-it-went-down-right-for) over on Tumblr (I swear, I stared at it and flailed around for like half an hour straight). (There also may or may not be art coming in from non-fandom sources as a kind of birthday gift from a friend, though we'll see ^^)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some texting fluff. I love this chapter. ❤

**CHAPTER SIX**

The night had been… fun, actually. Alex had been a good wingwoman, and Maddie had been extraordinary in bed, which meant Jonas woke up with a slight headache in a more than pleasing way. Once they’ve sorted out her walk of shame (which isn’t too far, they both live nearby) and he’s programmed her number into his phone from the napkin (she was a nice girl, he isn’t going to pass that up), Jonas gets around to making himself breakfast. It’s mostly just scrambled eggs and toast, but it’s enough for him. He’s swiping through his phone again, checking schedules for clients and the Kanaloa, before looking back over his contacts. Alex is still the most recent one, and he’s only just added her.

Well. She had been the one to help him out…

-

When Alex wakes up at noon, her phone has a text. Unknown number, but the message makes it clear. She brightens immediately, ‘cause hey; she has his number now, so score. Admittedly, something she’s going to have to watch out for when drunk, ‘cause she is very easily tempted (it has become habit to delete someone’s contact info the second they stop seeing each other, otherwise make up sex happens when she never wanted to make up and… yeah).

818-5891  
  
Nice job ‘wingwomaning’ there, Al.  
  
Hope you didn’t die after I left.  
  
Surviving and thriving, angel. xx  
  
Funny story- Mick (the blonde) thought you were my ex  
  
Extra funny cause my exes would probably be barred from the club, lol

She swipes into Craigslist, checking the recent wanted listings for gigs. Monday monday. Just a four hour shift tonight, and in the meantime… making ends meet.

Hot Jonas  
  
Jesus.  
  
Well, I’m definitely not your ex, but who have you been fucking to get them barred from a place that’s only been here for a year?  
  
At best.  
  
Ha, not here.  
  
Bar in Eugene. Ex got weird, kinda creepery, got blacklisted  
  
Fun times amirite?  
  
I would NOT call that a fun time AT ALL, but sure. We’ll go with that.  
  
Think I’ve only had one creepy ex in my lifetime, and I’ve stayed far, far away from her.  
  
I...  
  
Yeah, no.  
  
Bad history with choice-making.  
  
I make bad decisions.  
  
You probably already know this. Heh.  
  
You make some bad decisions.  
  
I’ve made terrible decisions. Just learned from them over time.  
  
Even if it took me forever and a day.  
  
First off: liar.  
  
You are a literal angel who has never done anything wrong ever in his life.  
  
You brought a drunk girl home and bought her groceries.  
  
People don’t do that. Angels do that.

Alex hesitates, but it’s too late. She pressed send as soon as she wrote it. Impulsive, as per usual.

-

Jonas rolls his eyes just a bit at her message, though it makes him smile. His mom would’ve thought it was hilarious.

-

Hot Jonas  
  
You should’ve seen me in highschool. I wasn’t exactly the same person I am now.  
  
Therefore meaning: I was a total douche and did some stupid shit.  
  
As far as the buying you groceries thing, that was because you didn’t have any other food in the house and you were probably going to die of malnutrition.  
  
LOL okay you being a douche sounds both unbelievable and hilarious  
  
Also okay but  
  
Wtf did you do with my ramen  
  
Cause like… my ramen? I eat it? It is done in 5 minutes and has the vague taste of protein??  
  
The vague taste of protein.  
  
I am going to get you to buy groceries on a regular basis if it’s the last thing I do.  
  
Should be behind the olive oil and flour, look hard enough and I’m sure you’ll find it.

Alex grins, and hops out of bed to do just that, electric kettle already boiling.

Hot Jonas  
  
I’m gonna sit here eating ramen just to spite you  
  
Also, I would buy groceries if I knew how to cook  
  
(maybe)  
  
But the best I’ve got is sticking marinara on spaghetti.  
  
Honestly how have I survived so long lmao

She’s joking, but… But also kinda not. It’s a serious anxiety of hers. The whole adulting thing all over again.

Hot Jonas  
  
I can just teach you how to cook?  
  
My mom taught me like, years ago. Just kind of kept with it.  
  
Besides, it’s a fun past time. Especially when you have the sudden urge to eat cake and actually know how to bake it.

That’s…

Okay, another tally in the ‘angel’ column. Also, a serious problem for Alex _ hits-on-anything-that-moves _ Strickland. This is a recipe for disaster. She is a disaster bisexual.

Hot Jonas  
  
I can’t tell if you’re joking or not  
  
But on the off chance that you’re not  
  
Sure  
  
I jest not.  
  
No but seriously, if you need to know how to make something, just shoot me a message. I’d be happy to help.

-

Jonas is already washing up dishes, though he can’t help but to shake his head at her. Clearly, she doesn’t have it all together, but she's still better than she gives herself credit for. Alex isn’t a drug addict (as far as he's aware), and she isn’t committing crime to get by; she's just doing it a little differently than most people. Easy.

-

This is just… not a thing that happens. Not to her.

Hot Jonas  
  
...if this is you trying to get back into my apartment, I swear you don’t have to try that hard.  
  
<strike> _ Like I said, you’re kinda crazy hot _ </strike>  
  
You have a standing invitation  
  
Speaking of which, how’d it go with lil miss dimples?   
  
I.   
  
Am not required to tell you that.  
  
Not required  
  
But like let’s be honest, you kinda want to don’t you?  
  
I mean, I deserve some kind of credit, right? Pimping you out?

Alex’s noodles are just about done, and she’s grinning at her phone.

Hot Jonas  
  
You did NOT pimp me out.  
  
You offered her a drink on my tab, totally different.  
  
And it was…   
  
Let’s just call it a well used night.  
  
My boy out here sinning, love it  
  
Imma make you lose those wings, buddy  
  
Thought you said it wouldn’t cost me them?   
  
What was it, a morally sound choice?

She rolls her eyes, spinning noodles onto a fork ‘cause that’s definitely the right way to eat a soup, Alex.

Hot Jonas  
  
Look

Okay, yeah, she doesn’t really have a response for that.

Hot Jonas  
  
Stop being witty.  
  
You’re making yourself too appealing again

That should shut him up.

Hot Jonas  
  
You were the one calling me Hot Jonas not two days ago.   
  
Just saying.   
  
I call it like I see it, Hot Jonas  
  
Not gonna hear any denials from me on that point  
  
Objectively I am correct  
  
Objectively you’re also the one who has electric blue hair and tried to sweet talk me for free drinks.   
  
But I’m not denying something that’s true.  
  
Somewhat.

Her fork taps against the side of the bowl, eyes narrowed at her screen.

Hot Jonas  
  
Can’t tell if compliment or insult  
  
I’m gonna take it as a compliment, cause I am stunningly gorgeous  
  
Particularly when plastered.  
  
Also the one who got much enjoyment over me slinging you around like a sack of potatoes.  
  
That a kink or something now? 

Alex snorts into her breakfast. Lunch? Meal.

Hot Jonas  
  
Angel, you don’t even know.

-

Oh dear lord he’s going to regret he ever said that, isn’t he?

-

Hot Jonas  
  
Good God woman.  
  
Aww, you’re so adorable.  
  
By all means, if you want to hoist me over your shoulder again I’m not gonna complain.  
  
Might crack up, but not gonna complain.  
  
If I ever do that again it’ll be because you’re hammered or you lost both of your legs.  
  
Or broke them, or something.   
  
I dunno. Just isn’t often I have to ‘hoist’ someone.  
  
Brb, running into traffic.  
  
I’m gonna guess that’s a joke but if it isn’t I’m not paying your hospital bills.  
  
Though I will be VERY concerned.  
  
Doctor, it was all to be *hoisted*  
  
I JUST WANNA BE HOISTED, DOCTOR

-

Jonas doesn’t respond for a little while, but it’s mostly because he’s been reduced to a laughing mess in the general area of his kitchen.

-

Hot Jonas  
  
Oh my God.  
  
Oh. My GOD.  
  
I will HOIST you, FINE.  
  
I am dying  
  
I am literally dying right now  
  
RIP me

Alex is practically choking, takes a second to breathe, before typing and sending before she can regret it, ‘cause she’s laughing way too hard.

Hot Jonas  
  
Hoist me daddy <3 

Death. Literal death. Choking on ramen.

Hot Jonas  
  
NEVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN.  
  
Yessir.  
  
Right away your holiness.  
  
Never again, master I promise  
  
Grovel grovel  
  
I’m going to shoot you.  
  
I am.  
  
Actually going to shoot you, Alex.  
  
Jesus fucking Christ.  
  
And I just burned my fingers for that, ow.   
  
The price of blaspheming against your lord, buddo  
  
Those wings, I’m almost sorry for you  
  
It’s what you get from hanging around me I guess  
  
So what you’re telling me.  
  
Is that you are a demon, and I should be smiting you right now.  
  
Huh.   
  
Dunno what I expected.  
  
Ooh, just makes it hotter.   
  
I’m gonna block your number, oh my God.  
  
Spoilsport.

Alex sighs, ‘cause a notification just came in and she’s got a job to do.

Hot Jonas  
  
Later gator, gotta go make bank  
  
Or rent, at least.  
  
Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I just posted 5, but this got formatted a while ago (text formatting! isn't that neat!) so I decided to go ahead and post it. Honestly, I love their texting antics (there will be more later!), and I just wanted to share. Whaddya think? Did you _also_ die laughing like we did while we wrote? xD


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Alex doesn’t _ always _ attend the Tuesday dance nights at the Perth Ave community center, but she does it enough that she’s made friends. A few regulars she’ll save a dance for, and a few she’s close enough to actually have swapped numbers. Two of those - Nicoletta and Leo - she’s roped into pre-gaming before the event. With no alcohol available on premises, it’s not uncommon that some of the attendees go for a drink before or after. Not to get drunk. Just to get… loose.

They’re all in their social dancing best (or, y’know, most comfortable, ‘cause she’s not gonna wear a dress when she can wear a crop top and leggings) and Alex actually has heels to change into for dancing (because, honestly, the only time she wears skinny heels is to dance, because they look damn good and are somehow easier to dance in than walk). The heels are hanging over one shoulder on a bungee so she can do her walking in flip flops, but even that she doesn’t need to do too much of, ‘cause Nicki has a car and they saved her the walk from her apartment to the bar.

Totally coincidental that they chose the Kanaloa. Totally. Not like she made the recommendation. It’s less than a mile from the event, and the promise of pool and darts was a draw for Leo. That Jonas works there is… simply serendipitous. Entirely.

Alex doesn’t bother walking to the bar when they enter; Leo already announced he was paying for their little threeway date, she isn’t gonna deny him that little pleasure. Whatever makes him feel like a man. No skin off her back. She does shoot a bright smile to Jonas when she sees he’s on, though. Turning a bit mischievous at the end, with a little wiggle of her fingers.

Instead of heading for a booth, she goes straight for the pool tables, before realizing that she doesn’t actually have quarters to use one. She loiters by the jukebox, skimming its contents, becoming even more aware that she’s gonna want change. Who even carries change anymore? Her general annoyance at the very modern problem is quickly set aside because— well, the bartender can probably break a few bills.

-

Today hasn’t been as slow as usual, but it’s always slow at the Kanaloa. At least, ever since they started going under. Jonas doesn’t want to say he’s been worried about it, but… he has been. Stable employment for someone with a two-year degree is harder to find than he’d like, and Daniel’s been treating him better than most people would. Combined with his distaste for change and his generally cold disposition, it doesn’t make for anything good. But the appearance of both Alex and her two friends makes him feel better, even if it’s only for a few fleeting moments.

Listening to his boss crunch numbers in the back, he serves the man his drinks, quietly chatting while Alex swings her way over to the jukebox. That was bound to get used at some point, because it’s pretty much the only source of music in the place, but it has its class. Even if you could smack it on the back and make a few quarters come spilling out, earning a free song. Something he’d learned his second year working at the bar. Of course, only the regulars really know that secret, so it usually sits more or less collecting dust in the corner.

That is, until Miss Blue Hawaiian starts making her way toward the counter. Her friend’s already paid for her drinks, which confuses him for a minute, but Jonas just continues his work in silence. Cleaning glasses, passing drinks to people who pass by for a moment and are gone the next, trying to count the minutes until his next smoke break. He’s almost on autopilot when she reaches the bar, voice monotone and low as he rolls out his neck. Probably slept on it oddly. “What’ll it be? Tequila, whiskey, beer…”

-

Alex raises an eyebrow. Downer? “I mean, I’ll take a tequila shot if you’re paying,” her tone is a deadpan kind of bemusement, “but I’m already set for drinks…” She shrugs toward her dates. “I’m just lookin’ for quarters, my good barkeep.” She spins her bungeed heels off of her shoulder idly, reaching for her cash, studying him. “If you’re conscious enough to get me some change, that is.” What’s his deal? Is she even close enough to ask him that? It feels like almost an invasion? And she’s too sober to be that rude. At the moment, anyway.

-

“Huh? Oh, what? No, I’m…” Jonas shakes his head a bit, pinching at the bridge of his nose as he does his best to straighten himself up. “Sorry. Just out of it today, I guess. I can break down some bills for you no problem.” They keep a few rolls of change in the drawer, which means Alex can ask for damn near any denomination of coins, and they probably have plenty of it. Though his smile is a little terse when he glances back up to her, even if it’s clearly not because of her appearance. And then he notices the heels.

“…You have heels on a bungee cord?”

-

Her brow is furrowed at his weird demeanor, but the question brightens her. “Yu-p,” she pops the P with a smile, spinning the bungee in her hands over and under and over and under in a kind of lazy figure eight. “Dancing tonight. Can’t social dance without heels. But also; can’t fuckin’ walk in ‘em.” There’s a crooked grin at that, that suddenly goes mischievous as she leans against the bar, lowering her voice in a mockery of conspiracy. “Though, apparently, if I break both my legs I get to be _ hoisted_, so…”

-

That gets him to snort, though he’s already going into the drawer to grab a roll of quarters and start doling them out to her. Alex had told him about the dance on… Sunday? Yeah, had to be. Some Latin thing he had no plans on following up about, even if she’d been the one to invite him. “Al, you’re not gonna break both of your fuckin’ legs just to get me to pick you up. At least, I hope you’re not, ‘cause that’s a waste of a good pair of legs.” Okay. That came out a little wrong, and Jonas knows it, based on the way he cringes.

-

Alex straightens up, a hand on her chest as she smiles brightly. “Why thank you, I’m flattered.” That seems to have worked for a moment, anyway. Gloom cleared away for all of a half second, before her angel was looking fallen again. “Come out with us.” It’s not like she didn’t think she’d say it, she’s invited him before - or at least she thinks she did, it might have been more of a bulletin of an event that exists - but she’s surprised by how much she wants him to say yes. Even if it’s his shift. She glances around. “Get the barback to cover you,” she jerks her head in the direction of the man busing tables. “Bet he’s looking for a promotion. Come dancing with me.” _ Me. _ Slip of the tongue. “Us.”

-

His head shakes a bit, and he’s back to cleaning glasses again, listening to Reggie make conversation while Daniel’s still crunching numbers in the back office. From the sound of it, nothing good is happening on that end. Jonas is doing his best not to think about it too much, but… “Nah. I couldn’t. We’re technically understaffed as it is, even if no one’s come in or out the past half hour or so. Besides, I’m not just gonna leave Reggie high and dry without some kind of safety net. He barely shows up to close, think I’m gonna trust him to run this all on his own?” He manages something like a smirk, tapping his fingers against the wood of the bar in a lazy pattern of morse code.

-

“Jonas. I got you laid.” She didn’t, but Alex is sure as hell gonna take credit for it for comedy’s sake. Extra cheeky, she raises her eyebrows like she’s waiting for him to protest. Which he will, so she quickly adds, “What do I need to do to prove to you this is in your best interest? I’m lookin’ out for you, angel. You do your guardian thing, I’ll do my… evil demon thing, or whatever. Tempting you to get the fuck out of your head and come blow off some steam.”

-

That gets him laughing, at least. It’s quiet, but it’s there when he rolls his eyes at her, crossing his arms over his chest to glance over Alex. She did kind of get him laid, technically, but he also has a job to do. Which means he’s going to need a bit more persuasion than just her own demonic tendencies. “Tell you what. Pick a game. If you win, I’ll come out dancing with you, but only for tonight. I win, I’ll stay here and do what I do best. Mix drinks and change lives. That sound good?”

-

Alex narrows her eyes. “Fine. The game is dancing, and I’m gonna win it so fast, you don’t even know.”

-

…What the fuck does that even _ mean_? “No— I reject that statement, just-” Jonas shakes his head, and then heads around the end of the bar, motioning for Reggie to take up position while he grabs a pool cue from one of the walls. “We’re playing pool. Because there is no way in the deepest, darkest pits of Hell that I’m dancing in here.”

-

She grins. Because he’s out from the bar, and he’s in her court now. And she’s not too shabby with a pool cue. He’s already at the table, but she stops by Nicki and Leo, grabbing up her drink and giving them a grin and a quick explanation before excusing herself to join Jonas.

By the time she’s picked out a cue, he’s already got the balls racked up. “Who breaks?”

-

Jonas is half-leaned on his cue, nodding toward Alex with a slight shrug and an almost bored look on his face. “You were the one that wanted me to go dancing. May as well let you have the first go at it.” Besides, he isn’t the absolute best at pool, and based on how she’s grinning? Alex knows what she’s doing. Which kind of terrifies him, if he’s being honest with himself. Best see how she plays, then.

-

Alex takes a long pull of her mojito, with an obnoxious noise of utterly quenched thirst. “Thanks, Jojo.”

On her first round she sinks three balls. A lucky break sunk 11 and lined up an immediate corner pocket for 14, third go got her 12, and then she missed her banked shot for 9, letting it bounce harmlessly past the pocket she was going for. Still. Probably her best first round ever. If only her luck will hold. “Your go, sweetheart.”

-

Jonas rolls his eyes a bit at her, watching the balls drop into their respective pockets before glancing around to check his options. “Of course you take the advantage. This is what I get for being a gentleman.”

His first round isn’t quite as successful as hers, but he still manages to sink both 7 and 2 while narrowly avoiding a corner shot for 8. That’s always a problem he runs into: getting distracted and shooting 8 before he’s finished the game. And Alex is… very, _ very _ distracting. Then again, two can play at that game, when he feels up to being eye candy for a night.

-

Admittedly, Alex takes a little too much joy in watching Jonas bent low over the pool table to line up his shots. And he makes two of his shots in a row, so that’s not too shabby. Quite good, actually. But she’s a little too focused on the man making the shots, ‘cause— look, she’s seen him in button-ups, and so briefly at the gym, but when he sheds the flannel for a plain white t-shirt, well. She finds herself leaning on her pool cue a bit too much, catching shadows of ink barely visible underneath, and it is way too enticing for a guy she’s pretty sure she wants to be friends with. Not like she’s gonna stop looking, though. Like Alex has that kind of self-control.

It takes her a second to realize it’s her turn, and her shot ricochets harmlessly away from the 10 she was aiming at, nudging his 6 a little closer to a side pocket. Shit. Alex straightens up, narrowing her eyes at Jonas, like he chose this wardrobe change on purpose. Very possible. Doubtful, but still possible. Before he can take his turn, she perches on the edge of the pool table by the 6. Casual. But purposeful.

-

Okay. She’s trying to distract him. It seems like Jonas has far more focus than she’s capable of at the moment though, when he manages to line up 6 and pocket it before missing a shot at 1. Not terrible, but not the way he’d prefer to be going about his night, either. When he glances back over to where Reggie has taken charge of the bar, the kid at least looks like he’s having a good time. Maybe there’s a little bit less of a reason for him to actually try and win this game now. Besides, what’s the harm of going out for a little while? It’s not like he’s going to come back plastered and out of control.

On his missed shot, he’d nudged 9 just a bit closer to a center pocket, and upon noticing nods toward Alex with a click of his tongue and a wink. May as well, seeing as she’s playing dirty. Or that’s what it seems like.

-

He _ winked. _ Alex has to grin at that, and it’s not as sharp as she’d prefer. A little too bright and sunny, and it quickly twists to something more wry. This has to be intentional on his part, doesn’t it? Distracting.

Okay. So they’re tied up. She can come back from this. Alex rolls her shoulders back, lets down her hair and shakes it out before pulling the top half away from her face again. Drumming her fingers on the side rail, she traces her touch back and forth as she picks out an angle. A bit of a hard shot, a little far for her height, to be honest. Leaning over the table has the heels over her shoulder almost brushing the felt, so she laughs for a second, spinning them off her shoulder and walking back to hang them on the rack with the rest of the pool cues. Out of the way.

Back to the table, she lines up a shot at 9, even if it has her on tiptoes to reach. Worth it, in the end, ‘cause she sinks it quick. Eyes flit over the table, picking out her targets. 10, 13, 15. Music comes on out of nowhere, and when Alex glances up it’s Nicki at the jukebox, arms crossed and leaning against the machine with a smirk. Her kind of girl.

Alex smiles back, and sets up a shot for 15. It’s nudged close, but not quite in. Close enough to the cue ball that he could accidentally sink it for her, though. If he’s dumb enough. (She doubts he’s dumb enough.) She finds herself swaying a bit to the music, ‘cause the selection is a good one, and she shoots Nicki an approving look.

-

Jonas has to resist the urge to jump when the music kicks on, but he manages, glancing back toward the jukebox before going back to the table. She isn’t playing dirty, he can’t call it that, but she certainly has control of where he can shoot if he doesn’t want to pocket 8 or earn her a point with 15. It takes him a few circles before he picks out an angle, quietly leveling toward 3 and 1 with more of the hope to get them away from 10 than anything.

It’s through sheer luck he pockets them both, using 8 as a bouncing-off point that nearly makes it go rolling into a pocket too early, but it ricochets around the corner and back into the middle of the table. Crisis averted. This isn’t going to hold. Definitely not with how she’s taken advantage of the table. Just his luck.

-

Okay. Fine. This is fine. So he’s better than she thought, fine. Now’s the time to whip out the stops. Alex steps carefully, ‘cause she’s got two options, and one is the easy one and one is a little trickier. Time for her Psych 101 class to come into play. Or something. Regardless: time for a show of strength. The easy shot would have her looking down her cue at him. With a high-necked crop top, it isn’t the most distracting view she can manage. Meanwhile, skintight leggings make a lot out of the little she has, and she’s gonna take full advantage. It’ll be tough, but really fucking impressive if she can make it.

She tries not to show how tense she is as she sets herself up. It’s a cheap move, and yeah okay maybe a little _ cheap _ in more ways than one, but she gives him a glance over her shoulder, a quick look-over with that sharp grin before turning back to her task, taking a steadying breath, and—

Thank fucking god, she didn’t think she’d make that. But the cue ball popped over 8 to hit lucky 13 on a long trip to a corner pocket. Sunk. Excellent. She breathes easier now that that’s done, and rolls her shoulders back, shaking out her hair again, arching her back and stretching her arms a bit ‘cause she was pretty damn tense for that.

Okay. So 10 and 15. Easy. Her eyes analyze the table again, checking where he’s gonna be shooting next. If she can get her second ball close enough to his that he can hit it in for her, that would be perfect. Even better if it’s the only move he can make that isn’t the 8. This is about to be too much thought, but Alex is competitive when it suits her. And she’d very much like to win this. As much to get him to come dancing as to just help him out of his own head.

The thought is a little distracting, honestly. Probably why her shot for 10 just barely misses. But she doesn’t let herself think about that, instead watching Jonas. “...You don’t smile enough.” The smirk is gone from her lips, lost to the concentration it took to make that trick shot. Instead it’s a contemplative look she has leveled on him. Eerily thoughtful. And she keeps that look, that steady gaze, as she leans against the side rail, chin on crossed hands, staring him down.

-

That’s… more than a bit unsettling. Jonas’s eyebrow cocks up at the comment, and he looks more confused than anything, though soon enough he’s tearing his eyes away from Alex’s to check over what else he needs. 4, 5 and 8. Okay. He can do that. It’ll be a bit tricky, with where they’re placed now, but if his luck from last round holds, he might be able to shoot 4 off of the rail and sink 5 into a corner. But that’s if he’s really, really fucking lucky. As in a piano falling from a roof and landing right next to him lucky.

Another circle around the table, another quiet exhale. This isn’t favoring him. Then again, when has anything? First his mom, then his sentence, North Valley’s oh-so-welcoming peer group, then his entire college career. Now the bar. Which is closing. Which means he’ll be out of a job. But it isn’t closed yet. They still have enough time to make up for the missed payments Daniel needs, if they get more clients within the span of the next few months, but without proper advertising for a place like this they’re kind of screwed. He’s kind of screwed.

It’s that train of thought that makes him miss his shot. The angle is off, and instead of 4 hitting 5 as it pockets down the corner, 8 ends up darting into a center hole. Jonas frowns at himself, and then goes to put his cue up, rubbing the crown on his neck as he goes. “Well. Son of a bitch, that does it, _ fuck_. Okay. Guess I’m going dancing.”

-

Alex is so focused on him - on the way his brows furrow, the concentration in his gaze, the way his eyes go cold, too busy wondering what it is going through his head - that it takes her a second to realize what’s happened. He’s taking his cue to the rack before she blinks back into focus, and after flicking her eyes to the table, catching the missing eight ball, she sits up with a dawning smile, even if it’s more tired than usual. “Excellent.” Straightening up again, she shrugs off the discomfort - something she’s too good at - and walks for the rack.

Before Jonas can get away, she puts a hand on his chest. Her voice is quieter, smile barely there. “Hey. Come on. It’ll be fun.” The longer she looks at him the wider her smile gets. “_C’mooon,_” it slips into a teasing wheedle, flexing her fingers in the fabric of his shirt. “Get out of your head for a bit, angel.” Her smile is crooked but genuine, and her eyes glance down at her hand before she lets go, stepping past him to swap her cue for the bungeed heels.

A small huff of laughter shakes her shoulders. “Even if you’re too scared to show off your inevitable moves; you’re just as cute of a brooding wallflower there as here,” she muses, smile growing as she goes back to her drink. She hasn’t finished it, but she’s not sure she’s going to at this point. They should get out of here before he goes back on his word. She takes another couple sips and catches Leo’s eye with a jerk of her head. Time to head out.

-

Jonas puts his hands up in surrender, managing the ghost of a smile as he starts walking for the bar again. Just a quick stop-off. He needs to clear his head. It isn’t going to work, and he knows it isn’t, but he can certainly try. Reggie is more than happy to get out of his way as he pours himself a shot of tequila, inevitably taps it on the counter, and downs the alcohol before cleaning off the glass and stepping out again. “Good luck, sucker! I’m headed out.”

“Wha— Jonas, you just-”

“Yup. Your bar for the night; don’t fuck it up.”

Reggie beams. Jonas can’t bring himself to return the gesture. Instead he takes out his cigarettes again, flicking the lid open-closed-open-closed-open, following after Alex as she takes the lead out the door.

-

The melancholy air seems to be lifting, and Alex feels immensely lighter glancing back and seeing Jonas doing a shot. Good. That’s what she does to feel better, too. A good sign, then. As soon as he’s out of the door, she grabs for his hand. Raising it up to spin under it (a little halting, with flip flops on concrete, but it’ll be a lot smoother in heels on a dance floor), she drags him along behind her, because Nicki and Leo have a head start to their car on the other side of the street. “It’s like a two minute drive to the community center,” she assures him.

It’s weird, ‘cause she feels kinda… kinda anxious? Like now that she’s dragging him along she has to make it worth his while. ‘Cause she _ wants _ to make it worth his while. “I’m gonna get you on the floor if it’s the last thing I do, Jojo.” The teasing is mostly to get a reaction out of him, shooting him a look over her shoulder, still tugging him along, until they reach the car.

-

He’s more than happy to lift his hand a bit so that Alex doesn’t have to (completely) trip over herself to spin, rolling his eyes at the way she’s talking. But he’s got that signature tired smile on his face, and it grows when Alex starts dragging him along, stumbling only for a minute because of the drop from curb to street before they’re both headed for a car. Jonas isn’t sure on who the other two are, but he can figure that out later. Or not at all. That’s kind of his specialty. No smoking in the car, obviously, but he’s still flicking the pack’s lid as they all pile in.

Of course they’re turned into some poppy EDM station. They’re about to go dancing, what else would they be listening to? “The day you get me to dance in front of people is the day I jump back up to Heaven, Alex. Either that, or I’m gonna be really fucking drunk. One of the two.”

-

The signature impish gleam is back in her grin at that. “And here I thought dancing with us heathens was gonna help you lose that halo.” She pulled him into the car by his hand, and rationalizes keeping hold of it. Because if she doesn’t, he’s gonna jump out of a moving vehicle. And that’s just not safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, meant to post this on my birthday and then ended up a day or two late. >< Oh well, here it is! We're about... twenty one chapters in now? Twenty two? There's a bit of plot, a bit of drama, though I'm honestly not sure where it will end up. xD Regardless, we're having fun with it! ^^ 
> 
> I'll admit I'm feeling extra curious about the lack of comments on this (I mean, it's a tiny ship and a niche AU, so I'm not super surprised), and wondering what exactly is making people feel hesitant about commenting (waiting to see where something goes? feeling meh on the characterization? just not having any questions or strong reactions?). Like I said, I'm not super surprised about the lack of comments - and we'll still be posting regardless, since it's already written - just mildly curious. Any advice from you guys for things you'd like to see in the notes? If you feel like dropping a line, go for it. If not... well, we'll be here anyway xD Be back in a few days/about a week with the next chapter!
> 
> -OWT


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (playlist title is a link to the youtube playlist, each song is linked, and artists link to lyrics)

[when you move](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5rMk09OCTxWM8SEkBIyoSTAhcClOV8iU)

[Me Emborracharé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cm5j4Zbvqag) [Grupo Extra](https://genius.com/Grupo-extra-me-emborrachare-lyrics) 4:01

[Despacito (Bachata)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLHthT24DTc) [Grupo Extra](https://www.musixmatch.com/lyrics/Grupo-Extra/Despacito-Bachata-Version) 3:15

[Don't Let Me Down (Version Bachata)](https://youtu.be/ogzxiPx3Isc?t=4) [The Chainsmokers ft. Daya (Dj Khalid)](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/chainsmokers/dontletmedown.html) 3:58

[Cheap Thrills](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J1b22l1kFKY) [Sia](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/sia/cheapthrills.html) 3:32

[Almost (Sweet Music)](https://youtu.be/JJ9IX4zgyLs?t=14) [Hozier](https://www.lyricsfreak.com/h/hozier/almost+sweet+music_21594899.html) 3:51

[Movement](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TyRD49DP6eA) [Hozier](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/hozier/movement.html) 3:56

[Work Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3g0d6Cgqyg) [Hozier](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/hozier/worksong.html) 3:47

[Code by Layouttesst](http://layouttesst.livejournal.com/profile)

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

It’s only a couple minutes to get to the center, and Alex makes the introductions as they go. Nicki and Leo are happy to meet a fellow person in their 20s, since the event is all ages (they tend to show up late enough that it skews 20s-40s, but Alex has seen anyone from seven to 70 there), and waves and smiles are exchanged as Alex is practically bouncing in her seat. She fucking loves dancing. She’s been going to this thing since before she even moved into the neighborhood, and it reminds her of her best times in previous cities. Every time she showed she learned a little more, to the point that she’s a decent novice. A natural follow, willing to go with the flow if the lead knows what they’re doing. And both Leo and Nicki make excellent leads and she fully intends to dance with them if there’s something good to dance to.

She’s out of the car before it’s even turned off, eyes bright and cheeks flushed even without more than half a mojito in her system. “Let’s hit this bitch.”

Nicki is cackling. “Alex! Family event!”

“Fuck ‘em!” But she’s grinning, and dutifully censors herself as she grabs for Jonas’s hand again so he can’t escape as she pulls him toward the building.

The actual community center hosts all kinds of things - there’s a swimming pool, a day care, a ramshackle collection of exercise equipment that passes for a gym, all kinds of classes and events - but the dancing is held in the basketball court, complete with cheap ass DJ PA system and a little side table with bottled water and chips for sale. It’s like high school dances all over again. Disgustingly wholesome, and Alex loves it for that. She’s fully expecting to see some of her favorite teachers tonight, because first Tuesday is Latin night, and it’s beyond a doubt the _ best _ of the nights.

-

He isn’t quite sure what qualifies for a family event until Alex gets him inside. Well. Guess he isn’t smoking tonight. Not terrible, but with the way his nerves are going, also not a great thing either. So Jonas is going to be hopping from wall to wall the entire night. Okay. Good to know. Because he may _ generally _ know how to dance, but he hasn’t done it in a _ long _ time, and Alex is more than excited about the whole thing. He doesn’t want to ruin that for her.

Alex’s two friends have already jumped into it, but he disconnects his hand from hers (a shame, really; it was comforting) to go and linger near the door. Jonas had been expecting a club, or something like the Island, but this is… well, it definitely isn’t that. Honestly he isn’t sure what to expect anymore. Surprises seem to be her thing. Surprises usually don’t sit well with him. But it’s endearing, and her energy is infectious, which means he’s smiling when he’s watching other people join the floor. No plans on doing it himself. Watching is enough. The atmosphere should get him out of his head, at least for a little while.

-

Alex shoots Jonas a jokingly accusatory look. “The only thing you’re convincing me of right now is that you like to watch, Jojo. Hope you know that.” But she’s still grinning. Kinda can’t stop. It’s crooked and genuine as she slips her flip flops off to slide on her heels. A quick wiggle to check her balance, and once she’s satisfied, she starts scouring the floor for a dance partner.

Alex never expected herself to like dancing as much as she does. Maybe it’s the human contact, maybe it’s the energy, maybe it’s just the sheer joy that comes from an environment like this; whatever it is, it’s better than booze. Her first dance partner is one of her earlier teachers, a man in his 40s who comes regularly with his partner and taught her the basics of salsa months ago. The music is that perfect mix of Latin and reggaeton that she can’t _ not _ move her hips to, and it’s a motion she’s gonna be doing all night and she’s not mad about it.

Too quickly one song moves to the next, and she finally gets her dance with Nicki and it’s a very different kind of movement than with the older man, ‘cause she quite likes Nicki - probably more than Nicki knows, but Alex is discrete, and used to looking at things she can’t have - and Nicki takes full advantage of Alex’s ease as a follow to try a lot more interesting moves. Sure, Alex doesn’t always catch on, but Nicki walks her through it when needed, and regardless she’s having a great time. Spinning and stepping and all hips all the time.

They showed up late enough in the night that by her third dance most of the families with young kids are gone, and the music shifts into heavier bass, though the solid _tac-t-tac-tac_ rhythm through it all stays. Leo is another excellent partner, and soon she shifts from mostly spins to an awful lot of close-close movement, fluid and smooth and something that feels so much more intimate, even if she’s grinning the whole time. Every time she does get thrown into a spin it’s completely gleefully, reveling in the energy of it. Spun out, back in, legs intertwined and hips swaying. It’s closer than she’s been to someone in a while, having missed last week’s event thanks to a shit gig that never panned out.

-

Jonas had gotten tired of all the noise, the hustle and bustle, just about as soon as he’d gotten in the door. He needed time to think. He needed time alone. Of course, he wasn’t just going to abandon the person who’d brought him here, but it’s… how he calms down. So for a while he just watches her in silence, a soft, sad smile on his face, until he can’t convince himself to stay in one spot without some kind of reason for it. So he takes out his phone, shoots her a quick message-

Alex  
  
Going for a smoke, be back.

And then he’s out the doors and toward the back of the building.

-

The movement keeps it at bay, but as soon as the song is over and Leo goes back to Nicki, the feeling hits Alex hard in the chest. Her phone vibrates and she turns it off without looking. It’ll be Ren. She can’t deal with that right now. With everyone having _ somebody_. So she finds another partner, someone willing to lead even closer, move her the way they want, anything to get lost in that high.

And a minute of that lets her head leave the loneliness and focus on keeping up, cradled against them, a hand covering theirs on her bare skin, shoulder blades pressing against her partner’s chest, with too much energy under her skin - a manic desperate force that pushes every move far past the concept of self-consciousness. No such thing as fear when you’re trying to lose yourself in someone else’s body, one way or another.

-

He doesn’t want to disturb any of the parents and their kids, which lurking would most certainly do, so Jonas stays away from the lights and sound. The air is humid, and it feels like it’s suffocating, but it’s something other than the pressing heat from inside. With all the bodies and the jumping chords and— and things he never quite understood. But he’s away from that, now. It’s reassuring. Jonas grabs the end of a cigarette with his teeth, slides it out of the pack, and goes rooting around in his back pocket for a lighter. It takes a few flicks, and some shaking (he needs to refill his soon, running out of juice), he’s able to take a long drag of tobacco and barely-filtered smoke. Almost instantly, his posture relaxes.

It all drifts into a haze. The music becomes background noise, the background noise becomes static, and soon enough it’s just his breath and the not-too-distant din of the city around him. This is how he usually spends his nights. Ducked in alleys, on the balcony of his apartment, taking in whatever his dulled-down senses can register before letting it all go again. Jonas gnaws on the cigarette, savoring the taste, the feel of something other than thoughts to ground him. Breathe in.

Music getting louder and softer as the doors to the center slammed open and shut again. Crickets chirping away at nothing as the hour grows later, the moon climbs higher. Hazy smoke drifting around his face, the smell sticking to his clothes, a slow draw of cancerous, dangerous materials sinking into his lungs. Breathe out.

Jonas’s mother wouldn’t approve. He knows she wouldn’t. But then again, would she even approve of anything he’s doing? The bartending, the smoking, the boxing, all of it. He hasn’t been to visit her in months. Maybe he should, when it all comes back around again. Maybe he should try to forget. Slowly, one of his hands creeps up and around his neck, dragging the chain of a necklace out from underneath his shirt. He twirls the ring in his hands, too small for him to fit around his own fingers, watching as the dulled gold catches shine in the street lamps. What she would say to him, if she knew. Always watching. Always listening.

His head tips back against the building, looking over empty sky, as he ashes the cigarette and just stares. He won’t find answers where there are none. He knows he won’t. But that was what she’d said. A final message, delivered not by her, but by his father. That she was always watching from somewhere just out of sight. Jonas takes another drag.

-

Another song has Alex floating somewhere else, feeling the sweat settling in the curve of her back, trusting herself in the hands of her partner because she sure as hell can’t trust herself. And it’s easy to follow along with movements familiar for one reason or another, steady undulations and _tac-t-tac-tac,_ stomach to stomach, chest to back, back to chest, forehead to forehead, a blissed out smile on her face throughout the spins and the rolls and the hair flipped wildly to the beat.

It’s when she feels too close to doing something wildly inappropriate that she drags herself off of the floor, stumbling to collapse against the wall, sliding down to the ground to rest her feet for a second, blood pounding in rhythm to the music. Perfect.

-

Not fifteen minutes later, and Jonas is walking back inside, brushing stray ash from his jeans and trying not to draw attention. Alex is, as always, being Alex. But she seems off, for lack of a better word. Punch-drunk, smiling, a ball of energy. She has to crash at some point, and Jonas watches her settle onto the floor near the back after a particularly intimate partner. With a slow kind of scoff, he paces over, settling next to Alex and gently knocking their shoulders together. He doesn’t say a word, but there’s a different kind of air about him. A quiet, reserved kind of contentment.

-

Alex points and flexes her toes in her heels, grinning at him. There may be a slight manic gleam in her eyes, but having someone she knows - or, well, kinda knows - to look at helps focus her gaze. Sharpens her hazy eyes. Grounds her for a second from her high. “Why are _ you _ sitting? We’re not done here. I’m just getting started. Give me like a minute to breathe, and then we’re getting out there.” Her tongue wants to keep talking, but she’s _ not _ drunk, as much as she feels she could be, and she stops herself before saying something that could scare him away. ‘Cause he looks about ready to ditch.

She wraps a hand in the hem of his shirt, for insurance. “You have moves with a punching bag, sure, and you can _ hoist _ a gal to her heart’s content,” she smirks, “-so I have to assume you’ve got the rest of the moves to match.” Just a half second to breathe. Alex slips her hair tie off, running a hand through her hair and pulling a face. “I’m not letting you off seeing me sweaty and not working up a sweat yourself. You’re not my personal trainer, just my guardian angel.”

-

His smile only grows, and Jonas is shaking his head at her, “I haven’t danced in years, Alex. If anything I’ll be mediocre, _ at best._” Dancing is _ kind of _ like fighting — if you really stretch it through a glass pane and let it refract through a window — but this definitely isn’t his usual trick of the trade. “Also, secondary question; is hoisting just going to be an inside joke with you now? Because I find that both demeaning and hilarious at the exact same time.”

Jonas considers getting her a bottle of water, but they tend to be overpriced, and she looks fine where she is. _ Just give me a minute to breathe. _ Easy. The comment about being her ‘guardian angel’ has him holding back laughter, though it makes sense, with how she’s seen his tattoos and most of the things he’s done for her that weren’t exactly considered normal. Getting groceries for a drunk girl. Now that had been an interesting night.

-

He’s smiling. It’s really really nice to see. Some part of her lets go of something — guilt, maybe, or maybe something else. Her smile turns wicked at his _ secondary question. _ “Perfect. I live to demean you, angel.” She practically snorts, “And I deserve to, after what you’ve seen of me. If I can’t see you drunk, I’ll just have to make you dance.”

A brief pause, and then she slaps her hands down on her thighs. “Right!” Standing up in these heels isn’t her strong suit - just dancing - so she rolls onto one knee, hands on Jonas’s shoulders for support as she pulls herself up. Holding out a hand, as the music switches into the next song, she gives him a hooked grin. “I’ve been fake-studying bachata for like a solid few months, so I think I can lead for this. Get ready. I’m gonna blow your fuckin’ mind, Jojo.”

-

_ Fake-studying bachata. _ Yup, he’s going to look like an absolute fucking idiot. Oh well. Jonas pushes himself up onto his feet, and takes her hand just after. (It’s still a comfort. Not that he’ll admit it. Not that he needs to admit it.) “Okay, okay. You’re the one who’s got experience here Alex. I don’t know what in the fuck I’m doing.”

-

Alex is… okay, not great at leading. He’s not great at following, either. She starts with just a couple steps, but he _ just - won’t - do it, _ and she ends up laughing and shaking her head and letting go of his hands to grab onto his waist. “Hips, Jonas, hips! This dance is basically saying _ ‘bruh, I fuck.’ _ Which means _ hips_. And kinda working with the _ back_.” She can’t. She’s really - this isn’t going well, and she’s about to break down laughing. “Bend your knees, hon, it makes things so much easier.” She goes for his hands again, ‘cause she’s gonna fuckin’ _ lead him _ even if she’s shit at it, ‘cause she’s the expert here.

-

“Yeah, that’s not something I telegraph.”

-

“Okay, so celibate angel, got it.”

-

“Says the woman who used the excuse of getting me laid last night to get me to come dancing with her.”

-

“But you just said - basically - ‘_I don’t fuck.’ _ Choose a side, Jonas. Sinners or saints.”

-

Jonas just glowers at her. It’s half-hearted, with none of the rage that it should have behind it, but it’s Alex. He’s kind of learned this is how she ticks by now. It takes another few minutes, and some more of her advice, before he figures out that Alex leading him is a no-go. Which means they have to switch places. He’s seen her with other partners, more experienced partners, and that’s a high bar to set for himself, but leading while she follows seems like the best idea. And once he picks up on the cues she’s set out, (and uses his hips, ugh) it’s more than easy to pick up a rhythm and start leading. Which works out much better than their original arrangement.

-

Okay, maybe she’ll admit that things are a lot smoother when she’s not trying to lead Mr. _ I-don’t-fuck _ and just following him. She’s good at following. It’s intuitive, knowing what people are asking of her. Of course, in her daily life she’s more inclined to do the opposite, out of spite or her own self-serving (or self-destructive) nature (depends on the day, really), but dancing is a team sport. And she’s an excellent second, if she does say so herself.

Alex laughs again, but it’s less teasing and more like enjoyment. She takes some liberties with his slight stiltedness, ‘cause she’s not gonna match that when she could be moving her hips. Gradually he loosens up, so there’s that at least. She takes his cues easy to turn when needed (maybe too easily, ‘cause she’s doubting he was intending to spin her, but she wants to spin, dammit), and any time he gives her the space she very happily does her own thing, grinning the whole time, delighting in the utter freedom she has in her own body.

Giving him a little space to do his own thing seems to help relax him into his own style, which is a blessing. Skirting her eyes over him, she realizes that he’s not nearly so bad when he’s not focusing on trying to match steps. Which— fair. He just needs to realize that’s perfectly acceptable _ with a partner _ as well.

She’ll do what she can. She’s not super optimistic as to its effectiveness, but she is for its entertainment value. When she comes back to him, she doesn’t wait for his hands to come lead, just rests a forearm on his shoulder (a hell of a lot easier in heels, that’s for sure), brushing fingers at the nape of his neck and matching his movements without the formality of steps or turns. Sure, it’s kinda close. Kinda very close. But not nearly as scandalous as she’s been with other partners tonight. Her chin is down, eyes up, almost a challenge in her gaze, not _ quite _ smirking. “How’s the halo, angel?”

-

“Mm,” Jonas glances up at nothing, as if he’s actually checking when he loops an arm around her waist and unthinkingly grins. “Still glowing. Maybe you’re not trying hard enough, Alex. I expected more from a demon of your caliber.”

Now he’s just asking for it. Mostly the teasing, but also the back and forth banter they’ve learned how to fall into, the exasperated sighs and cheeky grins. Something so signature to her, with the way she’s learned how to loosen him up. And he has been more genuine in his reactions tonight than he has been at any other time, especially around so many people. _ Around so many strangers. _ Alex’s fingers are running right along the center of the tattooed crown, and even though it makes him stiffen a bit at first, Jonas convinces himself it’s for the sake of the dance and does his best to not ruin the moment. Which is easier once the song switches over.

It’s a slower tempo, the rhythm more thrumming, and this is closer to the kind of dance he was actually taught. Well— half taught and half self-learned for the sake of not looking like a complete klutz when on the floor, but that’s hardly an issue now. His free hand slides from its original position near her hip, up Alex’s side and over her arm, lacing her fingers with his own as he takes a more confident lead. And he’s _ good _ at that at least, now that he’s figured himself out, how to pace himself with her own energy compared to what he’s used before. It isn’t Alex’s usual partners.

Paced. Softer. Almost wholesome, if it weren’t for the way he still has a hold of her, grin dropping back to just a little smirk. For her eyes only. The lights frame him in sharp angles and cutting slopes, a contrast to Jonas’s little mutterings of tempo and how his eyes flicker over her while they shine with mirth.

-

His grin makes hers grow bright. Kinda makes her heart skip a beat, to be honest, ‘cause holy shit she actually did it — she’s _ done _ it, more than once — actually got a _ real _ smile out of him, and that feels like a hell of a feat. Fitting, for a demon. “Still got time.” She’ll drag him straight to hell.

_ She’ll drag him straight to hell. _ The thought kind of hurts, poking at her, and actually makes her falter for a second, but it’s as the music shifts into the slow, more wind-down kind of rhythms, and her glance away, the fraction of a second her smile flickers, is lost as he’s looking down. By the time his hold adjusts - the brush of his hand on her bare back immediately having her settling in the natural response she’d have with other partners, legs fitting that right-left-left-right interlocked sort of position - she’s smiling again. Even if it’s a little dimmer. No— not quite _ dimmer_. Just… tempered. Mellowed. Still too fluid in her movements for him, still shifting her hips, though she has a more specific aim, stubbornly refusing to feel guilty for pushing the hand around her waist just that little bit higher to rest on bare skin. She just kind of… needs the contact. A little. Would with any partner, really.

Tonight, anyway.

Her hand in his squeezes for a second, more an effect of the shift. The fingers at his neck are brushing into his hair a little before she slides her hand down around his neck to rest flat against his shoulder, the base of her palm over the scripture tattoo she’d spotted at the gym.

-

“What, you running on a schedule?” Jonas squeezes her hand right back. It’s automatic, a trait learned over time and a habit he’s never gotten out of, the fingers of his other hand running over Alex’s skin as they move. The idea of her on a schedule, or at least a set one, is laughable. She’s free as a bird— maybe a bit flighty, but she hasn’t run away yet. He’d let her. Not usually his style - never his style actually - but he’d let her.

It seems like the dance is slowing down a bit, or at least the energy level is, most people picking a partner and sticking with them as the music keeps up the same feeling.

-

Yes, he’s kinda… tame, for her usual partners. But these are also slower songs, and… she doesn’t mind it. He’s making an effort, so. That’s good. And there’s probably something to be learned about encouraging preferred behavior, here. Something she comments on with a playful grin, and gets shushed in a less-than-irritated voice, hand squeezed again to bring her back into _ doing _ the thing instead of lecturing him about it. She doesn’t make any more comments, though there’s a bit of pride growing in her chest that she managed to keep him here, and that he’s still dancing despite his earlier protestations.

-

They pass a few songs bantering back and forth, switching hands every so often, until they’re both satisfied with the quiet; mellowed version of what Alex had been doing before. He doesn’t want to call her unfocused, though she seems out of it in a way, like she’s pacing herself for his sake. Which wouldn’t be a surprise. Jonas is humming to whatever’s playing at the moment, more than happy to let his mind drift with the distraction in his arms, pulling back a bit to give her a cue so that she can spin back-to-chest against him. Whether or not she took it was her choice.

-

She might be zoning out a bit, movements loose and focused more on the music than anything else. Alex isn’t picky about music. Anything that makes her skin thrum with the vibration of sound will do. And she likes the feeling of a steady beat throbbing through the soles of her feet. (Or, well, in this case just the balls of her feet, ‘cause heels, but close enough.)

Her eyes are closed, nodding along to the music as he shifts her and she feels the guide of his cue and responds easily. Pressed back against him, she holds his hands at her waist (a little above her waist, really, because fingers on bare skin are a blessing) as always more lost in the music than him, with that ingrained fluid movement she’s grown to love. Her head tipped forward, swaying gradually with the rest of her, one hand twines her fingers with his, and the other slips away, sliding up to curve around the back of his neck again— or perhaps more like sliding her fingers into his hair ‘cause he actually has _ really _ soft hair (like seriously, she should ask what shampoo he uses ‘cause it’s straight _ luxurious_).

-

Jonas wants to make a quip about the hair thing — and the semi-lap-dance thing that seems the hallmark of her preferred dance style — but he doesn’t. For two reasons. One, because it would break the moment, and two because he’s finding that he doesn’t really mind it all that much. He’s still not as relaxed as her, but at least he’s not a walking brick wall any longer, more than happy to let Alex move on her own while she’s still held up against him. She’s warm, and he’s quiet. It’s nice. Or at least, that’s how he’s going to describe it for a while longer, even as the night is winding down and he’s ready to jump off the dance floor the first chance he gets. But Jonas waits for her. Jonas waits for _ her_. He’s never been patient, and even staying in one place without something to do is a feat all on its own, but being more than willing to wait until someone else is pleased is… odd.

Anyone that knows him pegs him as something he isn’t. A hardass bartender, a punk with a record, some lost cause that got backhanded with a bad lot in life. Even if he’s more than just that. Jonas has gotten used to surface-level assumptions about him - it’s hard to avoid when everyone likes a clean slate - but Alex has bashed down most of his walls within just a few days of meeting her. And it shows.

-

Alex is floating, staring at the patterns spinning on the inside of her eyelids, focused on a rhythm and a hum and her body against him. Because Christ it’s good to be against _ somebody. _ She swore she’d have someone’s arms around her tonight. And she does. A sigh escapes her lips as she tilts her head back, resting against his shoulder as she idly combs through his hair.

This is nice. It’s not about the energy of the movement with him— which is different, but it’s not bad. It’s about… closeness. Just… being close to someone. She doesn’t get a lot of that. Not with consistency. Not without fucking it up, anyway. Which is sort of bound to happen. The thought draws a bitter shadow of a laugh from her throat. Soon enough. Every time. They’d be crazy or she’d be crazy, or both. This is why relationships suck. Anything beyond a casual hookup is bound to get too complicated.

Yet everyone else seems to have found someone.

Without noticing, her hand tightens in his hair as the song winds down, then loosens when another starts, letting out a breath quietly. She’s not ready to stop, not yet, not tonight. She weaves under one arm, sliding his hand over her midriff, her own fingers peeking between, skating over skin that’s cooled with the less strenuous activity, curling around her side to pull his arm around her. Just a bit. Just a little longer.

Truth be told, she’d probably do it with any partner. Anyone willing to give her some kind of physical comfort tonight. But it’s easier with Jonas, for whatever reason. Safer, maybe. A known quantity. She’s already accepted the rejection, so getting any more _ comfort _ of a sort is unlikely, but that’s fine. He’s trustworthy, even if he denies his obviously angelic roots. He brought things _ to _ her; she doesn’t have to worry about him coming to her apartment and stealing her stuff or whatever. Not that that’s happened. (Well, they stole her roommate’s weed and Alex had to pay her back, but just the once.) Maybe she shouldn’t trust her first instincts on other people, especially after all of her mistakes, but his first impression was like nothing she’d ever experienced. No one so giving. It’s hard to imagine that going sour. Not to say it can’t, but… For now she’ll trust it. Trust him.

-

“Ow. Hey.” Jonas’ voice is soft, and it’s the only comment he’s made in what has to be fifteen minutes now, clearly trying not to break her out of whatever relaxed state Alex has managed to achieve. “There’s a person attached to that hair, y’know. Try not to yank it out.”

He’s joking, that’s easy enough to tell. He’s still looking over the crowd, but his focus is on her, almost like he’s in two places at once. Alex had dragged him back into the moment when she’d decided to dig her fingers into his hair, but Jonas had been more than a little lost in thought beforehand, both about the situation and running through a list of what he could do without causing a commotion to get her to just stay. Just for a minute. It feels like she was almost rotating around him, in a sense - close but distant - like she’s trying not to scare him off. If he’d been scared off, he wouldn’t have brought her home, or gone out dancing with her, or half of the things she’d managed to get him to do in the span of a few days.

Alex is cracking the walls he puts up around himself. Jonas isn’t sure if that’s a good or a bad thing just yet.

-

“Sorry,” she mumbles with a kind of bittersweet smile. She isn’t exactly blissed out, not like she was earlier, but she’s somewhere else for sure. Less manic high and more mellow, almost sleepy. Like she’s already hit her wall and is just enjoying the slide down to the floor.

Alex still isn’t great at leading, but with her fingers wrapped with his it’s easier to shift his hold, turn, fingers skimming over skin as they readjust. It’s smooth movements, the hand that had been in his now holding onto his shoulder, the other tracing down his body for a second before she leans against him, ducking her face, cheek to chest. Jonas is really pleasantly solid at the moment. For all her years of learning to actually dance, it’s like high school all over again. Her touch curves around him, down his chest, around his waist. It’s less dance and more hug, to be honest.

She breathes in deep, a tired sigh, and is overwhelmed by smoke and spice and the familiar notes of dive bar that still cling to him. It’s a comforting scent, really. “Thanks for coming out, Jonas.” Her voice is mostly just vibration against the fabric of his shirt, lost under the noise of the music, but at least she knows she said it.

-

“Hey. A deal is a deal, Alex. Wasn’t gonna miss this for the world.” His eyes roll just a bit, but he’s more than happy to let Alex move as she wants, following after her once it seems like she’s settled. Though it doesn’t last too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this reads like a cliffhanger - it's not. This is just a lovely fluffy chapter. So is the next one. These two deserve some fluff in their lives, and we aim to give it to them. ❤ (Besides, they get more drama later xD)
> 
> This was a fun chapter to write, tbh. It may perhaps be obvious I got way interested in dancing when working on this, and cannot recommend that playlist enough (shush, I know Despacito is on there - it's a cover, okay, though the original also isn't bad idk why people dislike it so much ><) (and the second half is all Hozier-- it's not exactly a BALANCED playlist, but it is GOOD). Lemme know if you give it a listen!
> 
> -OWT


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Oh God This Is So Domestic (+ a taste of the drama). This is an adorable chapter. ❤

**CHAPTER NINE**

Leo and Nicki are both ready to go, and after a quick explanation on both directions and other details, they’re back in the car again. It’s a unanimous choice to just drop him off at home, though he drags Alex out of the car with him, because she looks almost exhausted now. If he’s being honest, it has him a bit worried. But it isn’t his place to ask.

Jonas still had an arm wrapped around her in the car. It was only after bidding goodbye to her friends that he let go, climbing out with a quiet word of thanks to check over his phone. A few messages from Reggie, though they aren’t anything to worry about - just thanking him for letting him have the bar for the night - and a mention from Daniel about his whole number crunching. It sours the soft smile on his face, but it’s still there. “You know technically, I still owe you a drink. I have some mixing stuff inside. Wanna join?”

-

Alex’s limbs are just the right amount of jelly. With all the dancing - and okay, yes, probably also because of the heels - her body is tired out, which is ideal. Only way she can sleep lately is to crash. There’s still a little left in her, though, recharged with the brief conversation in the car, but it’s tempered by his hand on her shoulder. Grounded. She’s more than happy to be dragged out of the car with him, ‘cause to be honest she’d rather have the support getting wherever she’s going tonight than to walk alone to her apartment, dreading checking her phone. Company is preferred.

She shoots Nicki a goodbye wave, not missing the woman’s wink in response, and huffs out a laugh before turning back to Jonas. “Definitely. This is me we’re talking about. Alex _ ‘I don’t have a drinking problem, I promise’ _ Strickland.” Her smile is too tired to be a grin, but it’s content and playful, and she quickly adds, “Joke, by the way. I barely even have alcohol at home, in case you didn’t notice.” And he could’ve noticed. A couple beers that weren’t even chilled, an old bottle of Jack that was gathering dust. She mostly drinks when out with friends or at work. Then again, she does spend a lot of time doing both of those things. “But I could use one, I think.”

She waits for him to get out his keys. No elevator in an old complex like this, but it’s not nearly as tall as the tower she lives in. Still, she tugs his wrist for a second before starting up the stairs. “Wait up, heels-” Sitting on a stair she starts pulling them off, grimly realizing she left her flip flops somewhere in the community center in her daze as she left. They were cheap dollar store flip flops, but still. Now she’s stuck either wearing heels or, as she intends to do, walking up barefoot. It’s the loss of the bungee cord that’s a real shame.

-

Jonas is twirling his keys around his fingers, waiting for her at the top of the first set of stairs while she takes off her heels. Once everything’s settled, he pads his way up the next four levels, having to jiggle his key in the lock a bit before it finally opens. He deliberately keeps his apartment sparse, in case he has to move quickly, but that doesn’t mean he leaves it bare.

A beat-up, old leather couch takes up most of the main room, along with a small coffee table and some strewn-about throw pillows (gifts from friends, and his dad). Though as he hangs his keys on a hook and toes off his shoes, he moves from the living room to his small kitchen, starting to go through cabinets to find what he needs to make both drinks and a bit of food. Because he’s hungry, and Alex probably needs something with actual nutritional value, based off of how he understands her usual meals to be. Exploring his apartment further would have to wait, for the time being.

“I’m not making you anything too strong. Mostly ‘cause I probably don’t have that? Eh, anyways.” He’s rooting through his cabinets, checking around bottles and whatever else he has stashed in the area. “Food or no food?”

-

Alex steps into his apartment with maybe too much interest. It’s smaller than her place - not by much, just a little more compact, and short one bedroom. She’s exploring it before he even starts rummaging around the little kitchen. “I’ve told you before, I’m not picky.” Grin and bear it for the sake of a buzz, if need be. “I trust you.” He’s a bartender, for Christ’s sake, he knows how to read what people need. That’s his job - _ their _ job. “Could definitely go for a snack, though. More than a drink, to be honest.” She’s feeling a little burned out of energy - in a good way, yes, but also a little hollow in the stomach area. Food would be very very good right now. And she sure as hell can’t cook.

Weirdly, his apartment is pretty close to what she’d expected. If she’d expected anything. Simple, way cleaner than hers, without the excess of art and scented doodads that Leah seemed to stock their living area with. She’s immediately curious about his bedroom. What makes it up on his walls? What about family photos? Is he a person who makes his bed, or just lets it stay a mess? She bets his bathroom is weirdly clean for a dude, too. He seems the type to have that discipline that she so obviously lacks.

Tossing her heels on his couch, Alex starts to wander, heading for the little hall with the three doors. One would be bathroom, one the bedroom, one (probably the shutters toward the end) a closet. Pretty simple layout. Theirs was similar, just with two halls and only one bathroom. And no balcony. His is small, but it’s there. Probably a place to smoke, mostly.

-

Trusting him was going to be a mistake. Or at least, that’s how Jonas would feel about it. Instead he just rolls his eyes, forgoing the alcohol and pulling out a pan and some olive oil to start sauteing onions and tomatoes. Of course he has to cut them first, but he can at least get the stove going beforehand. Alex isn't exactly refined company, which means he isn’t trying his absolute hardest, but this is a meal most people appreciate: tacos.

“Don’t go rooting through my room! Everything else is fair game.” He only leaves the stove for a few seconds to lean around the wall and call out to her. There isn’t exactly anything he has to hide. “And in case you’re wondering; no, there’s nothing _ too _ illegal in here.”

-

Well, she isn’t going to be _ rooting through _ anything. Just glancing. She goes for the first door on the left — bathroom, okay. Pretty clean, too. Glancing back to Jonas, seeing him in the midst of chopping honest to God vegetables (hallelujah, this is gonna be like restaurant food with multiple food groups in one, so score), she takes a step in. Might as well. And after washing her hands, she hooks her finger under the mirror to snoop through his medicine cabinet.

She’s nosy. And he didn’t say it was off-limits. Though, upon inspection, it’s kinda boring. No mystery pill bottles, no li’l baggies, just bog-standard bathroom gear. Still, she goes snooping around anyway. Sniffs his body wash ‘cause— yeah, kinda weird Alex, but also he smells good? And she kinda wants to smell it more? Plus, he can’t _ see _ her being weird. Though she’s betting he has his suspicions.

Satisfied that she has seen all she can there, Alex steps back into the hall, poking her nose into the room across the hall. Not more than just her nose, just enough to take a look. It’s too dark to see much, anyway, though the light from the hall shows the silhouette of a bed that’s nicely made (_disgusting, _ she grins to herself), dark sheets, and not her personal standard amount of clothes littering the floor.

While she’s careful not to overstep her bounds when it comes to entering forbidden areas - at least in this case - her personal boundaries are a little less strict as she walks back into the living room. “Think I can steal a shower, Jojo? I think I’ve got like five people’s sweat all over me. Could use a freshen up. Unless you’re eager for me to get that sweat all over your furniture, in which case — okay, good to know; weird kink, but I’m not one to judge.”

-

“As long as you don’t randomly pop out and scare the shit out of me? Go ahead. If you need to steal clothes, check the top left drawer of the dresser.” Kind of odd that he’s offering, but he really doesn’t want random strangers’ sweat on his couch. That, and like he’d said before; he doesn’t have anything to hide.

Jonas finishes up on the veggies, sliding them into the pan and stirring for a few minutes before going looking for ground beef. A bit harder to find, but he has some hidden away near the back of his freezer. Looks like that’ll need a minute. In the meantime he starts putting tortillas in the microwave just to heat them up faster, and for the sake of having something to munch on while he finishes the rest of the meal. He’s been more than guilty of eating some ingredients in the middle of making things, both in his younger years and well up to the present. Pull out the lettuce, rinse it off, chop. Repeat with cloves of garlic and another tomato, because Jonas underestimated how much he’d need. Another fault of his.

-

She grins at the offer — yes please, she is a notorious clothing swapper, and even better if the clothes she leaves behind can’t be stolen in return, ‘cause she’ll just add to her wardrobe. Unless he wants to wear her crop top. The idea of which is enough to make her snicker as she empties her pockets onto the kitchen counter. “Thanks, angel,” she tilts her head, shooting him a slightly cocky _ I told you so _ look. Because, seriously? Can’t deny an angel reputation when he’s doing stuff like this.

Popping through that second door, she tries not to snoop as she flicks on the light and goes to the dresser. Still, she glances over the room. It’s still pretty sparsely decorated, though there are a few framed pictures around. A three-person family, with a much younger and then teenaged Jonas. D’aww, cute kid. Got a little rougher in the teen years, though. There’s an extra photo of the woman from the family by his bedside table - alongside an ashtray and cigarettes that she’s pretty sure would be so illegal in her own apartment - and Alex resists the urge to pick it up. Jonas’s mom. There’s something she should remember — right. Religious. _ My mom was Methodist. _ So, _ was_, past-tense.

The microwave beeping in the other room reminds her of her task and she grabs for the top drawer. His pj pants would practically swallow her, so Alex has to search around a bit for something that she won’t trip on. Boxer shorts. Heh. For once, the memory of Michael doesn’t kill her like it usually would. Hand-me-down boxers and gym shorts were go-tos for sleeping as a kid. The drawer has plenty of plain white t-shirts, so she grabs one of those as well, before heading back to the bathroom.

-

He can hear Alex rooting around, but he’s finding that he doesn’t mind all too much. It’s just her way of doing things. That, and he’s fairly sure she’s still got a bet going over the whole ‘good Christian boy’ thing, which means he’s probably living up to the cliché. Apart from the smoking and the tattoos. Definitely sinning when he got a few of those.

-

Alex is an expert at showering quick. Mostly because she was constantly running late all throughout college and it was a necessity some mornings. She uses whatever’s already in the shower, making do - as per usual - and emerges in approximately eight-and-a-half minutes, wrapped in a towel and searching for a hair dryer.

Right. Yeah. He’s got short hair. ...Looks like that’s a no-go.

So, a few minutes later she emerges from the bathroom, still attempting to towel dry hair that is quickly leaving little splotches of water scattered about her shirt - well, _ his _ shirt. She stole some lotion and q-tips in an attempt to clean off the makeup that wouldn’t quite scrub off in the shower, but there’s still a little clinging to her lash line that she’ll get when she gets home. Overall, she looks… comfortable. Even if she should probably be a little paranoid over not having extra undergarments. But she’s a big girl, she’s been through worse than attempting to hide modestly under men’s clothes.

It’s so weirdly domestic that she has to grin. “I feel like I’m in college all over again. Morning after some bender when we all crashed in one dorm, stealing clothes and showers and food.” It’s nice.

-

He’d been in the middle of breaking up the now somewhat-defrosted meat in the pan, scraping up fond as he goes along to get a better flavor as it cooks. Two plates are up on the counter next to a bag of shredded cheese, the chopped lettuce, sour cream, and other condiments that he figured Alex might want to use. Jonas himself usually keeps his pretty plain, but whenever guests come over they have different tastes, meaning he isn’t going to just stock up on what he needs.

Alex’s phone is plugged in on the coffee table, still starting up, from when he’d done a quick check-over of the apartment. There hadn’t been much to check over, really, though now it’s filled with the sizzle of oil in the pan, the smell of garlic; it’s oddly homey. Even if Jonas would rather just be in sweatpants right now. But he’s not, because he’s still cooking, and that might not be such a good idea. Even if it wouldn’t be the first time.

“You and I had a very different college experience, then.” So many mistakes were made in college. So fucking many.

-

Alex is watching her hands, as she heads toward the kitchen, trying to comb through her hair with her fingers - and it’s actually not too bad, but it’s a bit of a chore. “College was great. Except when it wasn’t. Dropped out for a semester and never heard the end of it.” Not strictly true. “Well, I guess I did. Once my dad just… stopped talking to me altogether. Stopped paying tuition, too— hence the loan debt.” Couldn’t pay her tuition _ and _ the new kid’s. New family got priority over her. Whatever. It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, her mom contributed so she didn’t have to take out quite so much, but she’s still making payments.

A familiar buzz pattern sounds from the coffee table, and Alex glances over. Oh yeah. Her phone. He’d plugged it in— ‘cause he’s an angel. Right.

She’s not ready to look. Instead, she turns toward the kitchen, looking to Jonas’s back with a bright smile. “What about you? Some kind of military school or something? I think that’s the cleanest room I’ve seen since living at home.”

-

Jonas makes an almost disgruntled noise at the mention of his college experience, sucking in a breath through his teeth. Not something he expected to be diving into right out of the gate, but hey. Alex would figure it out at some point. “No. Community college, but… Some stuff from my past caught up to me, is all. Still got through it.” With more than a few flubs and more than a few failures. But he’d gotten through it. Even with the delay, and the debts, and everything else that came with such a short ‘proper education.’ Sometimes he wanted to kill the system. Other times, the system wanted to kill him.

When he turns around, still browning meat but starting to put together his own meal, Jonas pauses at the sight of her.

This was a mistake. Letting her borrow clothing was a mistake. Wet hair and a white shirt was already bad enough, but— Yup, okay, just going back to the meat now, ignoring that. Completely and utterly. Ignoring. Fuck.

-

Stuff from his past… “You keep alluding to this mysterious past in a vaguely menacing way,” Alex muses, padding up alongside him to look over his shoulder at the meal. “It’s weird ‘cause you seem kinda… kinda goodie-goodie?” Her smile is teasing as she elbows him in the ribs. “I mean, smoking and drinking, sure, but who hasn’t done some of that?”

She reaches past him to carefully pinch a tiny piece of ground meat from the skillet, popping it into her hand and then hissing ‘cause - hot - hot - okay, less hot - okay, good - before sticking the meat and her burned fingers into her mouth. Eyebrows raise as she hums her approval. “Mm. Good stuff, angel, well done.” She claps him on the shoulder, leaving her hand there a second to help assist her up on her tip toes to check down the rest of the counter. “And all the fixin’s.”

There’s another buzz from the table. Again, she pretends it doesn’t exist.

-

For a minute, Jonas isn’t quite sure if it’s the heat coming off of the pan or if it’s how close she is to him, but his face is definitely a bit red— Until she snags a bit of meat. “Hey- Hey! It’s not ready yet, I don’t even have the rest of the spices on it.” If he were more like his mother, she would’ve earned a smack to the hand with his cooking utensil. But he’s not like his mother.

He’s trying to pointedly ignore the rest of the conversation. His past, his record, his mother, his fights; all of it. Sure, it’s going to come up sooner or later (like it does with everyone) and she’ll probably think badly of him (like everyone), but he can try to avoid it for a little bit longer. His dad wouldn’t have stood for it. Be open, be honest, be the best person you can even if it’s not that great at the moment. Yeah. Whatever. Instead of elaborating on the fact that he was in custody, Jonas just keeps his eyes pointedly on the pan, muttering his next words. “Goodie-goodie now. Still have a record.”

-

“Ooh, I get spices and everything, how deluxe.” Alex snorts at his half-assed chiding, still soothing singed fingers, and then hops up to sit on the counter beside the stove, dropping the towel onto the floor and twirling her wet hair into a coil, letting the water drip onto her bare legs. “Ah, so a bad boy with a heart of gold,” she teases, grinning. “All hot tattoos and brooding silence and then _ bam _ you’re being fed and hoisted and given clean clothes when you sweat through your old ones gettin’ nasty on the dance floor.”

-

His eyes roll a bit at both her name calling and the general jab at his food, but hey. If he’s going to make something, he’s at least going to make it good. Which means he needs to actually find the spices. Jonas tips his head back enough to look through the cabinet above his head, pulling out salt and pepper before going back to the meat. “Says the one who _ also _ has tattoos, _ also _ tends to brood - though in a very different way than I do - and who _ also _ needs to be careful, because the grease pops and it might get on your leg.”

-

“I do _ not _ brood!” Alex’s mouth opens with a click of amused offense, swatting at him with a foot.

-

“I never- Ow!” Jonas is laughing despite the blow, and he just nudges her back with the elbow of the arm still holding the handle of the pan, scoffing at her. Because of course she would do this, the little shit. Then again, he’d kind of asked for it. He kind of asked for a lot of things.

-

“I am a ray of fucking sunshine, thankyouverymuch.” Her eyes roll at his warning, pulling one leg up onto the counter while the other swings against the cabinets. “If you’re so concerned, make sure I don’t get burned. Isn’t that part of your job, angel?” She leans back on her palms, hair flipped to the opposite side than the stove itself, pushed over her shoulder so it doesn’t hang back over the counter, soaking into her shirt instead. “Guardian-ing?”

-

“If you wanna start getting your stuff ready, I should be done in a minute here. And no, guardian-ing isn’t directly in the job description for us, though they do warn you it could become a secondary responsibility should the wicked not be properly punished and a soul ends up burdened with more pain than thusly stated.” He’s talking halfway out his ass, and halfway from stories his mom used to tell him.

-

Alex’s eyes narrow, despite the slightly bemused grin on her face. ‘Cause that sounds… so legit. So casually legit. She shakes her head, dismissing the idea because she’s pretty sure she never believed it to begin with (except that, seriously, that was too smooth, way too smooth — like, that wasn’t reached for at all). It takes a half second for her wit to catch up. “So you’re here to punish me?” Her grin shifts to a smirk, cocking her head. “For all my shockingly wicked ways?” She brushes her foot against his leg again, raising a brow. “I think you’ll be pretty disappointed, Jojo.”

-

“No; you’re the burdened soul.” He has no idea how he’s being so casual about this because she’s right there, and that fabric isn’t going to be white forever, and she’s wearing his clothes which is just— a bag of worms he isn’t even ready to get into— So basically Jonas is fucked. Then again, he did this to himself.

-

She has to snicker at that, rolling her eyes, “Spoilsport.” He isn’t even reacting to being called Jojo anymore, and it had been such a good reaction before. Alex must have overused it. Damn it. Oh well.

-

Once he’s found the rest of the spices and stirred them into the beef (it takes longer than he’d like, but it gets there), Jonas flicks off the stove and moves the pan over to a clean burner. “The wicked being that caused your fall is currently unknown. But I’m sure they’re being dealt with.”

-

Her head lolls back and forth to an inaudible song in her head as he cooks, and she leans over and grabs for another pinch of meat from the pan once it’s seasoned, the tips of her hair flicking just a drop of water into the pan with a brief hiss and spit that is kind of delightful. “Sorry,” she laughs, sucking the seasoning off of her thumb. “Good work, though. Hell of a lot better than anything I make.”

And she’s hungry now, too. Fingers wipe against her legs ‘cause she’s at least trying not to get his clothes dirty, and then she holds out her arms imperiously. “Gimme a lift, angel. If I hop down and sprain my ankles you’ll be stuck hoisting me, and we all know you don’t wanna do that.”

-

For a few seconds, Jonas just stares at her, visibly unamused with the whole thing. Even if it’s an act. Though he can’t keep that act going for much longer before he’s smiling again, even if there is a rueful annoyance as he picks Alex up. He doesn’t throw her over his shoulder or anything, instead looping one arm under her knees and supporting her back with the other in order to drop her off on the kitchen floor just after. “You are such a kid.”

-

There’s a tiny delighted squeak from Alex as he lifts her off the counter, and the ride is far too short, but _ whatever. _ She’s practically glowing, shooting a grin over her shoulder as she turns to start prepping a plate. “Oh _ please _ \- you’re like two years older than me.” She saw his ID. Jonas Long. 1992. “Not even. Like a year and half.” Her plate is loaded with about everything she can fit on it - she takes nutrition when it’s offered - in record time. “Just because I take a little more joy in the day-to-day than you do doesn’t make me a _ child. _ The rest of the world just hates fun.” She punctuates her argument with a bite of taco, not even bothering to leave the kitchen.

-

“Or maybe you’re the one who thinks it’s boring, and everyone else has gotten used to it.” He offers up a shrug, making his own plate and going to settle on the other side of the kitchen, watching Alex as he leans against the counter and quietly starts to eat. She’d been right about one thing; it feels more domestic than it should. A moment between two people in the same space, at the same time, just sharing food and talking. Jonas hasn’t had that in a long, long time. Something he’s become painfully aware of in the past few hours. He hasn’t really had a good, human connection in… God, he doesn’t even know.

-

Alex watches him for a second, her grin quieting to something smaller and softer and a little pitying. “That’s really, _ really _ sad.” Her words hang in the air a second before she turns her attention to the food. It’s good. Really good, ‘cause he’s actually a good cook - which is just another unfair fact about Mr. Jonas, Pure and Chaste. The room lapses into a contented quiet as they eat, at least for a moment, before Alex becomes aware of a familiar pattern of buzzing. Her eyes glance toward the living room, but then she turns back to her meal.

She’d actually forgotten for a second. The lurking dread surrounding that little devil.

The first taco went way too quick, and Alex pauses for a drink of water, casting a side-eyed glace to Jonas. “Do you really think I’m childish?”

-

Jonas returns the gesture. “Yes, you’re a baby to me— _ No, _ I don’t think you’re that much of a kid. It’s like you said, you’re only a little younger than me. You work a job, you pay your own rent, you do what I do.” Even if what he did was sometimes a little bit out of his hands. He offers up a shrug. “Though it is kinda sad to think people lose their wonder for the world over time. Or at least, people without the money to see its wonders do. Blue collar folks don’t exactly get much leeway.”

He glances over the bar counter, over toward where he’d plugged in Alex’s phone, raising an eyebrow when she doesn’t move to get it. Then again, it isn’t his place to ask questions. Maybe she’s just enjoying their conversation? Maybe.

-

Alex nods along to his assessment. It’s vaguely reassuring to have her… her adult skills, for lack of a better term, listed like that. To hear someone else validate it. “Rent, utilities, loan payments, taxes — groceries, most of the time,” the looks she shoots him is a little more tired, though there’s still some cheeky humor to it. Moreso after his observation of the world. “Yeah, it’s a shame when a guy can’t even get out and dance every once in a while, ‘cause he’s too scared of looking like an idiot,” she teases with a smirk, loading another little pile of meat bits onto her plate to pick at. “And me out here, simply enjoying life to the fullest, I suppose.” Her phone is going off _ again_, and she barely lets her eyes glance at it before pulling them back to Jonas. Living life to the fullest. Or just keeping her head above water. Whatever works.

-

Jonas listens to the phone ring once, twice, three times— and she still hasn’t answered it. Probably a thing to be more concerned about than he is, but maybe she’s just trying to be a good guest? It doesn’t… it doesn’t seem like _ Alex, _ though. More like she’s avoiding something. When it pings out for the fourth time, he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face as he crosses to go wash his plate. “Look, if you’re trying to be like, polite or something? I get it. But you can check your phone if you need to. Sounds like someone is really blowing it up. Just take a second to yourself, I won’t mind.”

He punctuates it with a smile. Not those small, vaguely contented ones, a real smile. Even if it’s soft and feels just a bit out of place in the moment.

-

Ugh. He’s so _ nice. _ Why is he so _ nice _ to her? “...Yeah.” Alex tries to sound relaxed, blase about the whole thing. “No, you’re right. Thanks.” Why does the prospect of checking her phone fill her whole body with a leaden dread? What’s the worst that can happen? Ren and Nona break up?

_ No. They stay together. They move on. _

It’s like some twisted version of butterflies in her stomach, something that’s making every limb feel too jittery and too heavy all at once. But she’ll have to look eventually. Can’t ignore it forever.

Alex tries to act casual, cheery, as she makes her way over to her phone. Her hand hesitates, but she pushes through it, unplugging and—

The screen lights up with the missed calls from Ren. Scrolling down there’s a notification of an image attachment. She already knows what it must be a picture of when the next notification under it just reads: _ SHE SAID YES! _

All of a sudden she feels the blood pounding through her head, her ears ringing enough to drown out any other sound in the room.

Time stands still. Her stomach drops.

She shouldn’t feel this way. She should be happy for them, happy that they’ve finally decided to tie the knot after she’s teased them about it for so long. Why isn’t she happy? Why does it feel like a black hole has yawned open five feet behind her, and she’s being dragged into it?

For a second, she’s simply frozen.

Her head is a mess; fear and guilt and panic and shame and all of it jumbled up and winding and winding and winding a spring in her that is telling her to go, to move, to get out of her head somehow.

Alex’s heart goes from sluggish and slow, to a steadily pounding beat, to hummingbird fast - a patter in her chest that urges _ go, go, go. _ Where, she doesn’t know - to do what, she doesn’t know. She just can’t think right now. This is a crisis, and she deals with crises the only way she knows how: losing herself.

Her first step away is halting, because her mind is frantically going a million directions all at once. She’s still basically fresh out of the shower, not dressed to run out to a club or a bar and drink. And she wants to _ run. _ But she can’t exactly leave this apartment.

She _ can_, however, lose herself another way.

It’s not alcohol, but it’ll get her mind on something else. Some_one _ else. Feeling something other than the hopeless loneliness that threatens to overwhelm her.

“Jonas-” Her voice is half-broken and distant, needy, and as soon as she’s back in his line of sight she just stops caring ‘cause_ now is not a time to care. _

If she cares, she’ll realize that she’s fucking everything up for herself — but that’s what she _ does. _ Ruins everything. Utterly incapable. Nothing ever goes right, ‘cause she won’t let it. He’s too nice to her, too good for her, and she needs to burn that bridge now ‘cause it won’t hold later.

The look in her eyes is glassy - desperate and detached - as she walks up to him with too much purpose, digs her grip into his collar, yanking him down to her and hesitating not even a fraction of a second before crashing her lips against his, body arching up to press wet cotton against him, eyes falling shut and unable to stop the tiny, almost panicked moan squeezed up through her throat.

It was good while it lasted. Time to burn it down. One glorious immolation of what could’ve been an actual friendship. Someone who could actually care about her.

Nope. Blind sex. That’s what she needs right now. Blind sex and then never talking to him again after tonight. It wouldn’t have lasted anyway. She’s just showing her true colors now before he can figure it out for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And _now _ welcome to Alex Has A Quarter Life Crisis. :3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going up pretty early, mostly cause day 8 of fictober is gonna be a little snippet of Alex's thoughts from a moment during this chapter and I thought it could use the context. ^^  
-OWT

**CHAPTER TEN**

Jonas is quiet as Alex goes to check her phone, that smile still on his face while he goes through the motions, washing and rinsing and repeating the motions until he’s cleaned nearly all of the plates and pans he’d dirtied in the process of making them both food. Midway through the last batch of dishes she says his name, but it doesn’t sound right. It’s still her, still Alex, even if the timbre is off and her tone trembles. Slowly, Jonas turns, one eyebrow raised in confusion and face twisted in concern.

“Alex, what-” And she’s kissing him. She’s kissing him, and that doesn’t make sense — well, not to Jonas — because it’s only been a few days and sure she’s been flirting with him for half of it but she’d helped him take a girl home and it doesn’t add up. At all. He drops the plate he was washing onto the ground, the way it shatters knocking him out of whatever she’s trying to start. His hands grab onto her shoulders, push her away enough for him to get a good look at her, and _ oh no that isn’t good. _ It makes alarm bells go off in his head. He doesn’t let go of Alex, breath heavy in his chest.

Is it something with her friends? Her father? No, she’d said he’d stopped talking to her— her mother, then? But none of that makes sense. He can’t come up with a good explanation or excuse that would end up making her act like she is. The blond and his girlfriend, or what looked like his girlfriend, seemed like good influences. Mostly good influences. Influences. God, he can’t even come up with that much. Jonas is going through the motions, wracking his brain for things that set _ him _ off, how they might match up with her, but this isn’t the way he went about things. They are two different people, and he knew that. He knows that. There has to be something.

So, he takes a more direct route. His head tips just a bit to the side, and there’s only concern in his voice, but the confusion is a present note when he gently squeezes one of her shoulders. “Alex— Look, I dunno if it’s my place to ask— What’s wrong?”

-

Alex isn’t quite hyperventilating, but she’s still in panic mode, her breath too heavy, heart racing, and body too eerily still for the chaos currently rampant inside her. Everything is dial tones and heartbeats, an ache in her head and a hollow in her chest.

He pushed her away.

It kind of hurts. The rejection doesn’t hurt as much as his concern. All she does is shake her head for a second before she can speak, voice throaty. “Nothing’s wrong.” Fuck.

She can’t even seduce him. She doesn’t know him well enough, just knows that whatever she’s done hasn’t worked. The thought brings a bitter chuckle to her lips. “God. What more do I have to do? I’m here, and I’m more than willing, and I’m already basically naked apart from _ your _ clothes— Just fuck me already, Jonas.” Why is she in pain? How much of that is in her head? “One night stand,” she assures him. “We never have to see each other again. I’ll delete your number from my phone, never come back to the Kanaloa.” _ Just give me this. Please. _

Alex shakes her head, letting out a weak huff of laughter, a distant part of her not even surprised by her own desperation, smoothing a hand over his chest while the other grabs for his grip on her shoulder, massaging his wrist, stroking his forearm. Turning her head she tastes his skin on open lips, speaking against him, her voice every flavor of sex she can summon. “One night,” she murmurs the promise, eyes falling shut again. “Whatever you want.” Every trick in her arsenal she’s pulling out, the teasing touches, the lean towards him, as much as she can manage before his hands are holding her back. The pressure is good.

No shame. No time for it. She’s too desperate for that. A desperation that may well be visible when she glances up at him from under her lashes, a look dripping with heat and need as she kisses his skin. “Please, angel.” She’s too quiet, too honest— her eyes soft, melted; wax seeping into cracks that weren’t there a day ago. “_Touch me._” Her other hand mirrors the first, hooked over the hand on her other shoulder, thumb running over his skin, trying to pull his hand down her body. The blessing of her not-exactly-lingerie outfit - in this instance anyway - is the way the dampened fabric clings to the few curves she has, making it obvious that— well, that she means what she’s begging for.

Anything. Any intimacy. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t _ want _ to care about anything, to _ think _ about anything besides the physical. Lost in sensation. Lost in her body - his body - instead of her mind. Lips press to his skin again before she rests her cheek against him, eyes closing, voice hoarse. “Please say yes.”

-

He shouldn’t be struggling with this. Hell, he shouldn’t even _ be _ here, technically. A whole lot of things could have been avoided if he hadn’t invited her in. If he hadn’t gone dancing. If she hadn’t checked her phone. But now— Now he doesn’t know what he’s doing, because Alex is… Fuck. She’s saying things he wants, he thinks he wants, and things he definitely does not want to go through. It’s all melting together in his head, like the room just keeps spinning and spinning and spinning, but he’s rooted to the spot. Because what was that? What is this? Why is he— Just _ why. _

Jonas is guilty and wanting and concerned and confused all at the same time. Nothing feels like it should. Her mouth is numbing, hands on his body making him go ram-rod straight as he tries to convince himself of something. Anything. One part of his mind is screaming at him that this isn’t right, that it’d be taking advantage of her, that something is clearly wrong and he needs to get to the fucking bottom of it. But the other, carnal portion just wants. Just hungers.

He’s frozen, for a while. But his grip loosens. Jonas can’t tell if he’s thinking too far into this or not thinking about it at all, if he’s even thinking. Around him the world still moves, and Alex is still _ right there, _ but something isn’t clicking in his head. Nothing is clicking in his head, actually because what the fuck is he even doing? He should be better than this. He _ is _ better than this— and so is she. That might be it. Alex is so much better than this, even if she sometimes seems like a wreck, and of all things to go and do she tries to fuck him and then cut him off. Jonas doesn’t understand that at all.

His mouth opens, but he’s not speaking. Even if he did know what to say, it would probably come out wrong, either from fumbling on the words or from whatever has a stranglehold on his mind. Which is just— amazing, really, it’s great; silence is usually better anyways. It’s some automatic part of him that makes Jonas shake her grip off, back up further into the kitchen, and try to get himself together. Something from his past kicking into high gear again. But this time it isn’t because he’s about to beat someone into kingdom come, which again doesn’t make sense to him, because why would anything ever make sense. God fucking damn it.

-

He’s quiet for too long. Alex swallows hard, finally has the courage to look at him, and her pulse speeds again, eyes lighting up because it feels like she might have him, like she’s so close to— something. His mouth opens and hers does too, mirroring, leaning toward him because - god she just _ needs_, and here’s someone to _ need _ with, and her eyes keep flicking to his lips…

And then he’s stepping away. Her brows furrow for a second, confused and hurt and angry. Arms cross over her middle, tangling with the hem of his shirt on her body, swallowing hard as she straightens her back and raises her chin. So he hates her. Is that what this is? He’s disgusted by her? Fine. A hatefuck. Whatever. It hurts, sure, but she’s so intent on numbing herself that her own bitterness soothes her.

She slips a hand under the shirt to curve around her waist, needing the heat and pressure, holding on tight like she could ever be capable of grounding herself. “You… think I’m crazy. You— I’m—” Alex shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut, trying to get her words straight. “I’m not—” Her fingers dig into her side, trying to drag herself back to reality.

The look she levels on him is guarded, but intense. “Jonas, I _ want you_.” Her thighs are pressed hard together, hips shifting anxiously. He’s too _ good_. Too good for her. Can’t last. Her eyes wander over him. “Just say yes.” He hasn’t said no. “I want—” She’s interrupted by a noise - a kind of whimpered moan that comes out more scared than she could ever have anticipated. “Your mouth, and your hands, and—” Her thumb is kneading at the ridge of her hip, and if he’s not gonna touch her well fuck she might as well touch herself.

The thought only gives her a half-second’s pause before her elbow pulls back, raising the hem of his shirt a couple inches, the hand beneath running across her stomach for him to watch. “Anything you want,” she promises. “_My _ mouth, and _ my _ hands— _ anything_.” She swallows again, steeling herself to walk forward. “Whatever you want to do to-”

With a yelp - sudden and unexpected - Alex is whimpering through gritted teeth, stumbling against the cabinets and sliding down to the floor. “_Fuck_-” It’s not just the sharp pain in her foot, but the blow to her pride (she may not have dignity, but she does have pride) that has her hissing breaths trying not to cry, glaring at the foot she’s got clutched in her hand, at the thin laceration slicing across her heel, the slight glint of tiny glass splinters in and around it.

-

There’s nothing like an injury to snap him out of his stupor. Jonas berates himself; first for being too sluggish to stop it, and then remembering why he was so slow in the first place, moving over to Alex without hesitation to look over her foot. He’s avoiding broken glass himself, sweeping it into a pile as best he can while he goes along. The cuts don’t look too terrible, but they’re soon bleeding a fair bit, and he’s still cursing himself out in his mind for being stupid enough to let something like this happen. Direct cause. Well, maybe not direct, but he had been the one to drop the fucking plate and not get to it instantly. Like an idiot. Because he learned this.

-

Alex’s face is going red as soon as he’s coming to her rescue. Fuck. She’s just— nothing. She’s _ nothing_. He doesn’t want her, no one wants her, she’s going nowhere, just a mistake wrapped in an accident wrapped in a catastrophe and _ oh god. _ She’s not crying. She’s not going to let herself cry. Just stares at nothing, focused on nothing, eyelids fluttering and face vaguely concerned - the tiniest crease between her brows, lips tight, trying not to look as hurt as she is.

-

He can make excuses all he wants later. Right now, he has to get the glass out of Alex’s foot. And also not step on glass while he moves around. Easier said than done, when he’s focusing on about fifteen things at once and more than a bit out of it. “Careful, this is gonna be a weird shift-” The first words that come out of him are rocky and slow, but it doesn’t stop him from looping his arms around her again and tugging her up off of the ground. “There we go. Okay.”

-

_A weird shift_. She lets out a weak, bitter laugh. Yeah. Couldn’t be weirder. Alex wants to wrap her arms around his neck, help him carry her, wants to take her usual joy in getting lifted by someone bigger and stronger than her, but she can’t. She knows she’ll be tempted to go further, and she can’t touch him like that, not when he’s made it clear enough. He doesn’t want her, no one wants her, she’s going nowhere, just a mistake wrapped in— The mantra comes again, unwelcome. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pressing her face to his shoulder, stealing this little moment of intimacy while he can’t pull away. His hands are firm and warm and she needs them so much right now. 

-

One step down. Who knows how many to go. Well, this is what she’d joked about beforehand. Getting hoisted. Probably not in this context, because Alex is bleeding and he’s kind of freaking out, but he gets there. He gets there. Jonas puts her down on the tiled floor of the bathroom, settling himself after grabbing what small medical supplies he has stuffed into the back of his cabinets. Some bandages, pain medicine, tweezers (because he’s going to need those when he tries to get the glass out), and rubbing alcohol (which he probably doesn’t need, but fuck it, it’s there) all dumped onto the ground as he kicks her foot up onto one of his knees.

-

He lets go too soon, setting her onto the bathroom floor, propped up against the side of the bathtub, and she feels adrift again. Eyes falling shut, she tilts her head back, breathing, hands flexing into nervous fists at her side. It doesn’t hurt that much. Not really. It’s a shitty place to be cut, though. Gonna be a pain to get to work. Walking will suck. Biking is still doable, though, as long as she stays using the balls of her feet instead of her heels. Alex’s eyes are still dry, even if they burn a little.

His hands on her ankle are a surprise, eliciting a small noise from her, eyes snapping open as she shifts a bit to help him get closer. God. This is… pathetic. _ Needy. Clingy. Desperate. _ Fuck. She hasn’t felt this touch-starved in ages. Watching him warily, too much want in her gaze, Alex swallows any words she might say. He doesn’t want her. No one wants her. Alex flinches as the words repeat, gritting her teeth and flicking her eyes to the floor. _ Stop it. _

-

For a long time, Jonas is just trying to stem the blood flow, using a stray washcloth to dab away the liquid where he can until it starts slowing down. He won’t be able to get out any glass if the surface he’s working with is slick.

When he finally gets around to cleaning up her foot, it isn’t as bad as he originally thought. Sure, she has some splinters of glass stuck into the wound, but other than that the cuts aren’t terribly deep. Which is both relieving and confusing. Alex reacts like it hurts a lot worse than it should based on the injury— But then again, she had just… basically begged him for sex after some _ something _ triggered her into randomly kissing him. So there’s probably more at play here than just some stabbing of skin.

“Just for the record,” Jonas’s voice comes out a bit softer than he means it to, but that’s fine. The silence doesn’t feel as broken as it should. Just a ripple in the screen when he adjusts how her foot is laying on his knee, trying to see how badly the glass had jammed up into the cut. “I don’t think you’re crazy. Crazed, maybe, but that’s a different bag. And I don’t think it came about all on its own.”

-

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Why is he so nice to her? It’s not to get into her pants, _ obviously_, so why? Does he— does he _ pity _ her? Alex shakes her head, pulling herself forward to rest her forehead against her knees, fingers digging into her hair in a position not quite rolled up into a ball. Every answer on the tip of her tongue is full of bile and vitriol - all aimed at herself, of course - but she swallows them. Not helpful. Not right now.

She scoots a little closer, enough that her uninjured foot is touching his leg, a little more human contact. A long breath out. Okay. “I’m just-” Her voice is too broken, and she clears her throat, glad to be speaking to the ground, to have her face hidden. “I’m fine.” Lie. Shit. “I mean. Not fine. But I’ll handle it.” Eventually. “Things are— I just really really need to be touched, Jonas, I’m sorry.”

It’s not fair to him, for her to throw herself at him like that. Her fingers dig into the back of her head in small circles, self-soothing. “You shouldn’t— you don’t have to—” Alex swallows, head shaking minutely. “I should go.” Of course, she doesn’t make any move to leave. It’s just an intention. Once she’s bandaged up. “I’ll call a ride, get out of your hair.” Of course, that means she’ll need her phone. Fuck.

-

Jonas gives her an almost annoyed look, though it’s dimmed with worry, as he starts gently removing glass from the cut, placing it off to the side in another, cleaner washcloth. “Yeah, no. Alex, I’m not just gonna leave you to your own devices here. Especially not after— whatever all of that was.” Then again, he isn’t about to call the cops on her for breaking down, either. That’d be insane. And he knows too well what happens if they come at the wrong time. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s your choice. I’m not gonna go prying. But you should probably just rest.”

That, and keeping her here lets him keep a bit of an eye on her. He can offer comfort, he can offer a place to sleep, but he can’t quite offer… that. At least, not now. Not while she’s still so raw with feeling, not while she’s doing her best to just push off whatever happened in the kitchen. Not now. Jonas does his best to wipe off one of his hands, having removed most of the bigger slivers of glass out from underneath her skin. Once it’s fairly bloodless, he places it on top of one of her own still tracing circles into skin, repeating the motion on the back of her hand.

-

So nice. Too nice. Alex’s jaw clenches, trying to force sense back into herself. She feels way too weak, too vulnerable. What the fuck is wrong with her. No— no, now isn’t the time for self-hate. Now is the time for self-awareness. _ Get ahold of yourself, Alex. _ She’s about to say something, to attempt to make a joke, though she’s not sure what it is yet, when he touches her hand, his arm close enough to radiate heat, to feel almost protective. Her throat closes, joke gone, and she’s biting her tongue because she _ isn’t going to cry. _ The words are almost lost, buried against her skin, so quiet. “...Thank you.”

She’s so focused on not grabbing onto his hand, holding onto him, that she can’t stop her anxiety surfacing other ways, toes pointing and flexing nervously. Energy has to go somewhere.

-

“What are you thanking me for now?” Jonas does his best not to smile, even if he doesn’t really manage, the corners of his lips turning upward when she doesn’t push him away. Instead, he just keeps doing what he’s doing. Tends to the wound, chides her for moving her toes around when he needs her to keep her feet still, easing out the last of the glass before going to bandage the cuts.

It’s kind of a struggle to do one handed, but he doesn’t want to let go of her. At least, not yet. Because it looks like she needs the contact, and he doesn’t mind in the slightest, which means until she yells at him he’s sticking around for her. Looks like he’s giving up his bed, since she’ll need that. Another thing Jonas doesn’t mind. He’s crashed on his couch enough that he nearly always has a blanket and some pillows nearby, just for the sake of either not wanting to get up or coming home so late - or early - that he flopped onto the nearest surface.

-

Alex is never this quiet. Not unless she’s sleeping, really. Or on public transportation. She’s matched her movements to his, like she’s translating his touch to her own scalp. She shifts her hips a little, a tiny bit guilty, when he gets on her case about moving her foot. _ Hey, I’m doing remarkably well for someone with incredibly ticklish feet, okay? Like, really laudable. _ Even if she doesn’t say it, the fact that a snarky retort popped into her head feels like a good sign.

He’s about done bandaging up her foot when Alex tilts her head, eyes poking up over her legs, even if the rest of her face is still hidden. She doesn’t want to, but she drops her hands - and therefore his hand - to come around her shins, examining his work. A weak half-smile curves her lips, and she stretches her neck a bit, resting her chin on her knee. “Not the prettiest, but I guess it’ll do.” It’s mostly a mumble, but it’s a start.

She can only catch his eyes for a second before she’s looking down at her hands. “Thanks, angel.” There’s no lack of sincerity in her voice, no matter how quiet it is. “For everything.” She lets out a breath that goes on too long. “...You’re too nice to me.”

-

When he moves her foot back onto the ground so that he can get up and start putting things away, disposing of the glass, his eyes roll just a bit at her half quip, that soft smile coming back up onto his face. Good signs. All good signs, if she’s well enough to start throwing snark at him. After doing his best to rinse out the washcloth in the sink, along with scrubbing his hands of whatever blood was left, Jonas reaches down to run a hand through her hair before he’s back on the ground. This time, he’s next to her, rather than across. “If I’m too nice, you’d be practically bullying me, Alex. This is just… kinda how I show people I care, I guess. Since I’m not good with words.”

They don’t have to get up fully for a little while longer. They can hang around on the bathroom floor until she needs to sleep, or until he feels portions of his body going numb, though he might be better about that than normal. He’s mostly worried about what might happen if she tries to walk on her foot right now.

-

She turns her face up at Jonas’s hand in her hair, still watching at him - giving him a vaguely bemused look - as he sits beside her. What the hell does _ that _ mean? The words, the touch, all of it. Despite Alex’s better judgment - the part of her saying she’s taking advantage of his hospitality, that she’s violating his previously stated disinterest - she leans her arm up against his, too focused on the warmth that touch gives her.

_ How I show people I care. _ So he cares about her? Why? What on earth has she ever done to earn it? From anybody. She just shakes her head - half at him, half at herself - before leaning it against his shoulder. It’s tempting to do so much more, but she has to stop herself. He’s rejected her twice, she needs to learn to take a fucking hint. Still, she turns her face to sigh into his shirt.

It’s only once she recognizes that that was probably her trying escalating things that she turns to face forward again, though she’s still propped cheek-to-shoulder. “And I bet you thought I was only insane and handsy when I was drunk.” It’s spoken under her breath, but she knows he can hear it. “I’m sure that’s a pleasant surprise,” she deadpans. Even with her self-awareness, knowing she’s toeing a line, she still loops her arm around his, curling herself toward him a little to hold on.

“...Sorry. I can stop, if you want.” Probably.

-

“What I’d appreciate is less of you insulting yourself.” Seriously. Jonas is frowning just a bit at her, though this time it’s because of what she’s saying, rather than her actions. There isn’t a reason for him to pull away when she clearly needs the contact and he isn’t spoken for, so he raises his hand up to hold onto one of her wrists, thumb rubbing over the hollow point where the joint meets the arm. Alex needs something grounding, clearly, which means he’s going to take over that job until she either finds something better or calms down.

The contact is probably good. Based off of the fact that she isn’t trying to hit on him again, she just uses it for comfort, or as a grounding thing. Something he’d admit to doing, sometimes. Even if he rarely got this much contact within a short amount of time. It’s almost nice. It’d be nicer if Alex hadn’t just freaked out and he didn’t know why, which is making him worry, and the whole— Everything that happened in the kitchen is still making him kind of guilty— It’s all just weird. Jonas feels like he’s been shoved through a couple of rollercoasters in the past… what, fifteen minutes? Half hour? Something like that, he isn’t quite sure.

-

Alex is staring at a spot on the grout between tiles on the bathroom wall. For a second she’s silent, then lets out a sigh, closing her eyes. “Yeah.” Her voice is quiet. Tired. “Me too.” Either too many excuses or too much self-loathing. She never seems to find an in-between.

Jesus. She’s exhausted. Like she’s just been burning constantly and the wick is all but run out. Good. Sleep is hard, usually. It’ll be a lot easier now.

Alex’s breath evens out, steadying, and she’s quiet for a long time.

A very long time.

Long enough for him to think she might’ve actually fallen asleep.

“I…” She thinks she might actually tell him what the hell is happening, but she’s not entirely sure she knows, herself. It’s not something she wants to dwell on, in any case. When she does talk, her words come out a drowsy mumble. “You were right. I should sleep.” She’s practically holding onto his arm like a teddy bear anyway, burying her face against him, words almost lost in the fabric. “And I’m totally stealing your bed.”

-

“Yeah, I expected as much.” His eyes roll, but it’s good-natured when he reaches over enough to run a hand through her hair once more.

-

She really likes it when he does that, the hair-touching. Alex leans toward his hand, practically purring like a cat being pet. Not quite, but close.

-

Jonas adjusts his arm to gently slide it from her grasp in order to pick her up again. He still doesn’t want her walking on that foot, and she doesn’t weigh all that much, which means she gets hoisted again. He does his best not to snort at the fact. And then he feels even more guilty, because she said she’d break her legs just for him to do this for her, and that’s kind of what happened. On a far smaller scale. Great.

-

This time around she actually loops her arms around his neck to help him pick her up, though getting lifted brings a small smile to her face and a slight sleepy snicker. “There,” her cheek is pressed against his shoulder again, nuzzling toward his neck, voice rough with her newfound exhaustion. “-You said you’d do it and now you’ve fulfilled your promise twice. Which means I owe you one.”

-

After managing to get out of the bathroom without hitting her limbs or head on the door frame, he carries her over to the bed, setting her down and starting to walk away. Taking the couch won’t be terrible. Even if he’s still in jeans and a tee. Just… mildly uncomfortable, maybe. He should change.

-

Alex is most of the way to sleep already, but feels too cold when he sets her down in bed alone. Arms sliding down from around his neck, she grabs at his wrist. “Nop.” That’s not a word. “Nope. Staying.” Her other hand pats at the empty side of the bed next to her, and then she’s already curling up, bringing his hand with her into her little sleepy ball.

-

Jonas has to bend a bit when she pulls at him, making a surprised noise before a smile comes up onto his face. “I will in a minute, Alex. But I am still kind of in clothes.” Gently, he tugs his hand free from her, dragging covers up over her shoulders before starting for the kitchen. “And I need to clean up that glass completely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, Alex. She's... something. Anyway, this chapter may be one of my favorites. I'm really curious to know thoughts and reactions on this one.
> 
> -OWT


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

At least the glass was colored, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to see anything. Jonas is able to gather up most of the pieces of a now very broken plate with a broom and dustpan, dumping it into the trash before going to clean up the forgotten food. First the meat, then spices, then the… Well, Alex had called them ‘fixin’s’ and he thought that was funny, so. Fixin’s. It takes longer than he’d like, but eventually Jonas is padding his way back into his room to grab a pair of sweatpants and to check on her.

-

Alex has had problems sleeping since… well, most of her life, really. At least since… since Michael died. The solution is, generally, to just run until she can’t anymore, then pass out. These days she generally does that through work, going out, or - occasionally - a good hookup. If she can’t get any of those things, it’s binge-watching whatever trash reality show is new on Netflix, and then dying somewhere around 4 or 5am. After everything tonight, she would’ve expected to pass out and stay out for a solid several hours. But her internal clock is set for a 4am bedtime, and it’s barely past midnight.

She’s twisted herself under the covers and is dozing well enough, her mind in that twilight zone before full sleep takes hold, and it feels promising. Generally that bizarre limbo is an inoffensive place for Alex, with random images and ideas and snippets of overheard sounds leaking into her mind and swirling into useless nonsense. As they do. Tonight, though, as she drifts, things that started innocuous enough quickly go off-kilter. She’s too disconnected, too aimless, a body drifting in the nothing. It doesn’t make sense, that something so simple should make her feel so uncomfortable. Alex shifts, rolls over, tries to get cozy again.

She is nowhere, going nowhere.

Why does the idea shake her bones hollow? There’s nothing wrong with being alone, but as soon as the thought comes into her head she’s fixated. She’s unmoored. Unanchored. Afloat. And on the thinnest raft she’s ever imagined. Alone on the ocean and nothing but miles of bottomless sea.

_ Fuck. _ Her eyes drag open, frowning, heart hammering in her chest. She can’t sleep like this. Not when her brain won’t cooperate. The feeling isn’t unfamiliar; she’s had frustratingly abstract anxiety dreams before. Things that shouldn’t be scary, yet unbalance her to the point that she just can’t sleep. The weird dreams about an ice cream truck in fifth grade, those hadn’t been scary but had haunted her enough that she still remembered them to this day. Dreams about visiting Edwards Island with Michael, those had popped up about a year after his death. Things that shouldn’t strike the fear of God into her, and yet they do. At least enough to keep her from falling back asleep.

Again she shifts, kicking around a bit to loosen the sheets from their careful tucking, grinding her side into the mattress like she can carve out a den. Maybe she’s too warm? Pushing the covers down again, she stretches out full, back bowing and toes pointing, hands flexing their fingers out wide. The twisting and turning has made his oversized shirt wrap up around her and she pulls at it, tugs where it’s pinned under her hip, shuffles about until it’s straight again, tugging at the shoulders to fix them as well. Alex lets out a sigh. It’s not helping. She curls back into a ball with a frustrated groan, bunching the shirt up at her waist to give herself some breathing room.

Fucking shit, _ why. _ Why is this night the worst thing ever.

-

Jonas has at least gotten a handful of things done while she’s supposed to be asleep. Changed into sweatpants, cleaned up the bathroom (for the most part, there’s some stains that might be there to stay), and started brushing his teeth. Though he can hear the shifting from his vantage point, poking his head out enough to glance over where he’d cracked open his bedroom door. Where Alex is trying to get some rest. Washing his mouth out with a handful of water, he pads his way back into the room, pushing the door open slowly so that he doesn’t startle her. Just in case she’s having a nightmare or something.

At least, that’s what it seems like. Though as he glances over her further, he notices her shifting is more awake than asleep. His eyebrows furrow at that fact, head tipping to the side as he watches for a moment, trying to see whether or not he should intervene. Eventually, Jonas steps inside fully, closing the door behind himself and leaning over her enough to ask, “Alex, you okay?”

-

Her brow is furrowed, something between pain and frustration, but it smooths out a bit as she rolls onto her back to look up at him, just looking weary, eyelids still heavy. “Sleep is…” she makes a noncommittal sort of noise. It’s a pretty shit explanation. And she’s suddenly far too distracted looking him over because _ okay now _ that’s a topless Hot Jonas. She’s not quite awake enough to stop her eyes traveling over his body, inspecting the tattoos she didn’t get to really examine when he had her pinned to the gym mats. She hadn’t noticed before, the way the knot on his chest is made of chain, how it loops down into what she assumes is the hook piece around under his arm, over his ribs.

“I’ve got one of those,” she muses in a murmur, raising the side of her shirt to show most of the image that’s curved around her ribcage. “Hurt like a bitch.” Alex runs her fingers over it, absently. “‘s a towhee.” Not that she’d have known what sort of bird it was if she hadn’t grown up visiting the bird sanctuary in Edwards Forest. She’s still not entirely sure she could pick one out of a lineup, though the white tail helps. A nice little floral bit and frame border on the tattoo, as well, though those had also been a pain in the ass. In the ribs.

With a long inhale that quickly slips into a yawn, Alex stretches again, back arching and joints popping as she extends as far as she can before letting her limbs flop back onto the mattress.

“Well, c’mon,” she pats at the empty space beside her. “Said you’d stay. And if I’m gonna be awake anyway, might as well have someone to chat with.” She tries to convince herself it’s not just ‘cause she wants a human blanket around her, but that’s probably part of it, too. And he’s got long arms, he’d be such a good blanket.

-

Sleep is… what? Insomnia? Just in general hard? The noise she makes doesn’t give him much of a clue, though he’s distracted by the way she curves and twists to show off her tattoo, and then even more so as she stretches herself out. It’s tempting, he’s not going to lie, but what’s done is done. Another time. Another place. If that whole situation hadn’t been out of the sheer need to just be distracted.

Jonas takes in the image while he still feels like he can, whistling in a low tone at some of the line work. It’s fitting for her, really. Free as a bird stuck in a cage. Even if the door to it is open. Though when Alex calls his attention to what he’d said before, he just nods, curving around the edge of the bed to take up it’s other side; head still facing her when he lays on his stomach. She’s bundled off nearly all the covers, but he isn’t going to complain, because it’s summer and he has a tendency to overheat.

“You’re gonna fall asleep eventually. Gotta crash after all the dancing you did.” Or maybe not, considering he's only halfway to unconsciousness— But then again, Alex had danced far more than he had, and with more fervor. Like she was trying to wear herself out.

-

It’s comforting to have him next to her, even if Jonas isn’t in Ideal Human Blanket Position (spooning, duh). Alex rolls onto her side, facing away from him but hooking her uninjured foot back and over his leg as much to keep him from leaving as to have the physical contact. A small smile comes to her lips at his mention of the dancing. That had been nice, at least. It normally would’ve been enough to tire her out a bit. But then…

The pained expression that crosses her face is hidden from view as she stares at the blinds on the windows. Tonight’s been a real roller coaster.

-

His eyes trail lower, with the original intent of looking over her bandaged foot, though they pause at the sight of words above her hip. Jonas recites them out loud when he runs his thumb over them, unthinking and out of habit, “‘_I will become what I deserve._’”

-

Alex’s stomach dips for another peak as he brushes against her skin. The contact makes her shiver a bit, tightening her hold on his leg, but she tries to keep it casual, even if the hair on the back of her neck is standing on end in a way too pleasant way.

“Mm.” It’s a hum of confirmation at his read. “It’s from a song. They kinda… spoke to me, I guess.” It’s a dumb explanation. Of course she chose them for a reason, why else would she have them tattooed? “You know, like… like I’ll get what’s coming to me, one way or another.” Sometimes it reads hopeful. When she’s feeling particularly self-confident. Other times… Well, it had been the third of her Michael-inspired tattoos for a reason.

Alex wants him to touch her again. She wants him to do a lot of things that he’s way too gentlemanly to do. Chewing at the inside of her lip, she’s left with two sides of her mind arguing over what should happen next. Mostly her id giving her horrible ideas and her superego reminding her why those are bad. Little fantasies she lets fizzle to nothing as she absently shifts her foot to rub against his calf. She holds her breath for a second, before her ego intervenes and deems it acceptable to shift herself back towards him, getting her once more within distance of his radiating heat. It may be summer, but she still - generally - sleeps with a blanket: human or otherwise. (Then again, her apartment has intense AC so she can be under a blanket year round.)

-

Well. That’s abstract. Jonas raises an eyebrow at the explanation, lifting his head up a bit to better see what she was talking about. _ They spoke to me. _ That’s a story not being told completely. Then again, he does the exact same thing, so he can’t really say anything without sounding like a complete hypocrite. Then Alex moves, and his train of thought is completely forgotten in favor of the warmth near his side. It’s a nice feeling. She isn’t pushing it, but from what he can tell she likes the comfort…

Ugh. Excuses excuses. Does he need one for everything? Maybe because he overthinks everything. Maybe he should just stop thinking. Sleep is poking at him, and all he offers up in return is a mildly amused hum, tossing an arm over her shoulders to tuck his head near hers. Though the cold touch of metal comes at the same time his breath heats up the skin of her neck.

-

Alex practically sighs when he puts his arm around her— ‘cause it’s nice, having that pressure, that protection. His breath raises goosebumps she’ll need to get used to, but the cool metal distracts her from that. With a confused curiosity, she holds onto his wrist, keeping him from pulling away as she squirms a little to roll over and face him. Whatever it was is caught under her shoulder for a moment, a hard lump that she quickly realizes is on a chain around his neck and she shifts again to let it free, reaching for it with curious fingers. A ring.

It really really shouldn’t hurt so much. But it’s a reminder of what she’s been trying to forget, and it shoots a lance of pain straight through her chest, a feeling she can’t even try to hide from her face, breath catching for a second before she tries to go blank. Eyes unfocus from the ring, dropping it back onto the bed, and she stares at his shoulder instead because she’s a little scared to look at his face.

Her first instinct is to touch him, but that would be no good, so instead she plucks at her waistband like a guitar string, giving herself something to do. Thinking of some droning rhythm to strum along to, thinking of anything else. It’s difficult, in silence, to redirect her thoughts. “Tell me about your tattoos.” _ Distract me. Please. _ He’s gotten the (half-assed) explanation on one of hers. And she needs something other than her own thoughts to listen to.

-

He makes a grumbling kind of noise when she grabs onto his wrist, but he doesn’t make any attempt to move, eyes still closed as Alex fiddles with the ring before her ministrations stop. One eye cracks open in confusion, only to spot her near petrified look, how she has to tear her gaze away from it and settle onto his shoulders. Jonas isn’t going to force her into talking. Asking about the tattoos is a distraction, an obvious one, even if he still shifts enough to pull onto his side and fully face her.

A lot of them are self-explanatory. To him, at least. His voice is more mumbling, “Which ones do you wanna know about? I’ve got a bunch of pieces for the sleeves, but there are some stories behind ‘em.” If people were actually paying attention. He tugs her the littlest bit closer, the arm still wrapped around her shoulders squeezing softly. And this is where Jonas turns into a bunch of half-asleep mush. Because he’s warm, he’s comfortable, and _ she’s _ warm which is only making this more enjoyable.

If only the circumstances weren’t there.

-

He probably has no idea how hard it is to not just wrap herself around him. Or, rather, bundle herself up next to him to get all wrapped up. Jonas’s presence alone is comforting, and he’s like a solid wall between her and… whatever is out there. Her hands come to rest between the two of them, eyes following the lines of ink, losing herself in that instead of the nagging criticisms singeing the corners of her mind.

For a long time she just looks, just examining his skin, the knot and its connected pieces. But then her gaze skirts to the other side of his chest. Alex doesn’t know scripture. Never has, never will, probably. But she knows that’s what that format means. A finger brushes over the text. “This one.”

-

Oh. That’s right to the heart of that, then. Jonas sighs at himself, because it’s been nearly ten years, he should be able to move on already. It shouldn’t haunt him as much as it does. But it _ does. _ He can’t deny the fact that the events are burned into his mind, and whenever he fucks up, they play like a broken record player. For now he tries to ignore that. Nothing’s happened yet. At least, nothing warranting that kind of thinking. “Already told you my mom was Methodist, right? They’re bible numbers— a bible verse. Which really shouldn’t be surprising.”

The terrible beeping of machines. Too many flowers, too little natural light, hues of sickly green and slate white. Hospitals still freak him out. She would lay in bed, and she’d read, or try to convince him to leave. Or she’d just sleep. Jonas always felt worse when he came in while she was sleeping. She’d needed the rest. The memories make him pause for a moment, his face near blank, if not for the notch to his lip as it twitches into a frown. “First tattoo I ever got, for her. Book of Joshua, chapter one, verse nine. ‘_Have I not commanded you? Be strong and be courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go._’”

-

Christ. She should maybe be more concerned that he has this shit memorized, ‘cause _ god _ she feels like such a sinner next to him. Never something she’d considered before, but it feels too apparent now. Comparing herself to her guardian angel. Her brow is furrowed a little as her finger traces the lines of the lettering. Some part of her wonders if that’s what she needs, if religion is the key to escaping this aimlessness, but she can’t even take that seriously. It’s not for her. She knows it isn’t. Could never belong somewhere like that, anyway.

“My first was numbers, too.” Not a bible verse, though. She pulls her hand from his chest, rotating to show the dates on the inside of her wrist. Birth and death. Truth for truth. A little of his history, a little of hers. “…How did she die?” Maybe it’s too personal. Briefly Alex’s eyes flick up to read his face, the slightly stubborn look there, and wonders if she’s made a mistake.

-

For a while, he has to consider both his answer and her question. Not because he doesn’t understand, not because he doesn’t know, but because he needs to let it sink in. Of course he knows. Of course he does, even if he wasn’t able to be there, even if he—

The fabric of the sheets rustle, and Jonas turns his head up enough to watch her wrist rotate, glancing over the dates with a soft sound of acceptance. He isn’t going to ask her about them yet. Alex had been the one to ask first. And he still has to answer.

It shouldn’t be this hard to talk about her. It shouldn’t. “Cancer. They caught it pretty late in the game, but there was still a chance… Then she started refusing treatment. It cost too much for us, and she was tired, and— Now she’s gone.”

-

Alex sighs. She knows there isn’t much she can say. He’ll have heard it all before. She’s heard _ ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ _ enough times that it’s just empty words to her. But still. No one should have to go through that. They still do, every day. Shuffling a little closer, she cranes her neck to nudge her head against his chest, pressing lips to skin for a brief moment, words a whispered, “I’m sorry, angel,” before pulling back again. It’s not a come-on. Just a little comfort. Not much, but something. About all she knows how to do.

-

“It’s alright.” He hears himself saying the words, and he knows they’re not true, but now it’s all Jonas can think of before he starts something he doesn’t want to go through again. Which means there’s been enough horrible memories tonight. Enough breakdowns and confusing moments that just end up bundled together again. So instead of trying to wave it off, he takes what he can get, shifting enough to push his face into her hair and just breathe for a little while. Alex smells like his soap, but that’s fine. She still has the undercurrent of whatever perfume she uses. If it’s even perfume, there are a lot of ways to— He’s on a tangent. A thought tangent.

Muffled, but still there; “The ring was hers, too.”

-

This is what Alex needed tonight. She might not have known it before, but this is what feels right. It feels safe. Which is probably why, with his revelation, her finger starts playing with the ring again. One deep breath in, and then—

“Ren’s getting married.” The stupid _stupid_ reason she was so upset to begin with.

-

Honestly, Jonas isn’t quite sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t that. She didn’t give off I’m-in-love-with-my-best-friend vibes, nor does he think she was trying to get with his girlfriend - now fiancée - which means he’s left scrambling for an explanation as to why Alex is so off. They’re young. Maybe that’s it? They’re the same age as her, and already tying the knot.

Holy shit. they’re a couple years younger than he is and they’re _ getting married. _ Jesus Christ. That feels like whiplash.

Her fingers toying with the ring are a bit of a comfort, though he isn’t sure why. “This is gonna sound crass as hell, and I’m sorry for it, but— you’re not in love with him. Kind of obvious. You’re not in love with the girlfriend, either, so… what happened? What disconnect was that?”

-

Alex shakes her head, ‘cause he’s right but also— well, he doesn’t get it.

“He proposed to her tonight and she said yes and—” Her throat is tight, mind beginning that downward spiral, but at least she’s saying the words out loud this time. “And—” The words come too steadily, an acceleration of thought. “-they’re _ doing _ something, and they’re _ going _ somewhere, and I’m—” Hands have curled into nervous fists as her feet point and flex anxiously. “I’m going _ nowhere _ and doing _ nothing _ and—” It’s one continuous never-ending thought that seems to go on and on, teeth pinching at her cheek as she speaks. “And he said he has a 401k, that’s like— he has a _ life_, and a job that isn’t just a holdover from college, and I—” She chokes, shaking her head in tiny too-tired-to-be-frantic movements. “Fuck, I’m 25 and I can’t even feed myself, what the hell am I doing?”

She’s holding on too tight to the chain around his neck, desperately, like a lifeline. She’s not going to cry. Not gonna do it. Or she was so set on it, anyway, but there’s a sting and it might be too late for that. Her desperation is tinged with frustration as she shakes her head again, rolling up tighter and curling against him. “So fucking stupid, this is— I’m— god, I’m so sorry, this is so stupid.”

-

He has to crane down so that the chain isn’t digging into his skin, though Jonas had plans to duck back down anyways, free hand moving enough to cradle her cheek and swipe tears off of Alex’s skin. So that’s what this was about. Her friends are moving on, while she’s stuck on the sidelines, trying her best to keep up with people that are more fit to be doing what they’re doing than she is. But that’s impossible. Jonas knows it is, because he’d been trying to do the same thing, years upon years ago. When he’d just gotten out of juvie and felt like he needed to repent more than he needed to grow. When he’d followed a path he couldn’t go back from— for the crew, for a group of friends that just made him worse and worse, for everything. For mistakes he still regrets. So he shakes his head a bit at her, hushing with crooned words.

“It’s not stupid. It’s a concern; one that’s louder in your head than all the other ones right now. I’ve been through this. Told you I had a record, right? Long time ago, and it isn’t the same, but I lost… a lot, because of it. I got left behind.” Jonas manages a small, sad smile. “Just like you’re afraid of. Or at least, something like that. Can’t speak on your behalf. What I can say is that you shouldn’t be trying to race people for life skills when you’re doing enough where you are. Sometimes, you just _ stay _ where you are, because that’s what clicked.”

-

It’s not the time for life advice. Not right now. Nothing can get through to her, not where Alex is now, shaking her head over and over.

She isn’t where she _ should _ be. Even her dad’s new kid has more promising prospects, and he’s still in med school. _ In fucking med school_, oh god. And she’s bartending. Has been bartending for five years. Three of those waking up past noon and not sleeping until the sky is getting light again. No one lives like this. No one her age should live like this. (She conveniently forgets every older bartender she’s ever worked with. This isn’t about them. This is about her, and her friends, and how she can never measure up.)

“Fuck—” She’s cursing more at herself than him, holding her breath a second in an attempt to keep from hyperventilating. Still, her words are practically hiccoughed. “God I’m so— I’m so sorry, this is— it’s just panic, I’ll be— I’ll be fine, I’m just—” _ Fuck fuck fuck _ oh god. She’s definitely crying, even if it’s just a few tears. “Shit.” It’s practically a squeak, and she quickly lets go of the ring around his neck, “Oh god, I’m choking you, shit—” She ducks her face to wipe her cheek on her shoulder, holding her breath again. Breathing is important. She was taught this, however many years ago. She just needs to fucking _ remember _ and actually _ practice _ it.

Her eyes are closed, face pained, as she takes in a long shuddering breath. Fuck, he smells _ good_, too. “I’m so sorry. You—” Breathe, again. Calm down. “I’m a mess, and you never signed up for this.”

-

“No. This is _ exactly _ what I signed up for.” Jonas isn’t going to let her run from this. He isn’t going to let her turn away, and hey: she’s the one that keeps calling him an angel. As soon as she lets go of the ring, once he’s sure Alex is trying to curl up into herself, he takes a different approach. It’s still gentle, because he doesn’t want to hurt her, but it’s firm when he curls himself up around her and tips her face back up toward him. Because she’s going to deal with this. Even if he has to pry it out of her.

Okay. That thought is new. But he doesn’t know what else he can do to help. Even then, Jonas keeps his voice low, jaw set in a way that makes his expression turn from concerned to commanding in a heartbeat. “Things happen for a reason, Alex, even if you don’t believe in God or fate or anything else. Hell, I don’t blame you. But when you walked into the Kanaloa for the second time, I signed on for this, because I offered you that drink. I walked you home. I bought you groceries— I mean seriously, why else would I _ do _ that? You’re calling me a guardian angel. So it’s high time I start acting like one.”

Be better than what he is. Better than what he was. Jonas is still warmer than her, despite how she’d bundled herself up under the covers before, but he doesn’t care. If anything it might be pleasant, if Alex wasn’t currently going through a mental breakdown. So he just holds her, wrapped as tight as he can get without the fear of crushing, and stays there.

-

It doesn’t make sense. He’ll never make sense to her. Too good for this world. How the hell does he survive, giving so much away? Her eyelashes are still wet, but the tears have stopped when he wraps himself around her. Perfect human blanket, really.

Jonas’s finger under her chin makes her throat catch ‘cause oh no she’s having Bad Thoughts again, eyes flicking to his lips over and over, but she tries so hard to listen to him. He sounds assured enough, and Alex tries to figure out how much of her attraction is a weakness to _ him _ and how much is just her general weakness. Her small smile is maybe a little sheepish. When she finally says something, her voice is softer than usual, and apologetic. “If you keep talking like that I’m gonna want to kiss you again,” she admits, with the crooked smile that softens the blow of what isn’t really a joke.

-

Her words get him to roll his eyes, but at least she’s trying to crack wise. Or— not even crack wise, to just… be honest. It earns Alex an almost huffing bout of laughter, short lived and quiet, before Jonas does something he knows he’s going to regret. But she’s right there, and she was the one that said it, and— Excuses. Fuck it, he’s made mistakes. He’s made ones far worse than this, if it can even be viewed as one. So he leans forward and presses their lips together, only for a moment, slightly chaste and not quite something more. Then, Jonas settles his chin on top of her head, and does his best to act like he’s under control. Even a little bit.

“There. Now you owe me three. Two hoists, one kiss.”

-

Alex leans into him for all of half a second before even _ she _ feels a little shame, knowing this is Not Ideal - Christ, now she’s guilted him into kissing her, that was just manipulative - and might actually be the first to break away. Either way, she makes no complaint when he does. Just accepts it, tells herself it’s not that bad, kisses are hardly anything in the grand scheme of things, and he chose to do it knowing full well she’s extra clingy right now. Physical comfort, and all that. Everything feels like a bigger deal with Mr. I-Know-Scripture-By-Heart. Like she’s out here with her devil woman ways, corrupting him. Which is stupid.

_ Beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure. _ She huffs a soft laugh, snickering to herself. Okay, that’s too much. She’s kissed friends when she’s upset before. It means nothing. A little comfort, that’s all.

Right. Nothing. With a determined little breath she pecks a quick (_friendly! _ she tells herself) kiss on his collarbone before shifting back over to put her back to his chest, settling into the curve of him easily.

Like a friend. ‘Cause they’re friends. This is normal.

And if she lays awake a little longer convincing herself of that fact, well hey; better than thinking about other things. He’s just the distraction she needed him to be.

-

Once she’s settled back into place, Jonas is more than content to turn off the light and tug the covers up over them both (though it’s kind of a struggle because Alex kicked them nearly all the way off the bed, Jesus Christ), rubbing a thumb over the tattoo of framed flowers and the towhee bird. He hadn’t really complimented them, but they’re good work, and most of them have clear meaning. The dates have to have been for something, probably a family member, but there had been enough of depressing topics in the past hour. So he closes his eyes again, squeezes Alex, and tries to get to bed.

Sleep doesn’t come particularly easy. Talking had dredged up some less than happy memories, especially of his mother, but the dreams don’t help at all. The courtroom again, the first time. Waiting in silence while people file in, file out, give testimony. The verdict. His sentence. Jonas doesn’t fumble around as much as Alex does in her sleep, though every so often his face twists, baring teeth at nothing; or his head will flick back into a new position. Other than that, he’s completely silent. Not much of a contrast to his usual ‘cool bartender’ facade, a forgotten habit by now, even if this version is off. Wrong.

-

Weirdly enough, even though sleep is (as usual) not the most restful thing in the world, Alex manages to actually get a few solid hours. _ After _ a few instances of reminding herself that this is a friend thing - that his hand under her shirt is _ friendly _ as a way to _ comfort her _ and not anything else, and that the ideas of him straight up ravishing her are just desires of an unstable and needy subconscious - of course. With enough convincing, and her trademark denial, she might actually believe that. There are a couple times she rouses a bit, finding his hands a little too tight around her, or feeling movements at her back, and she sleepily rubs a hand in comforting strokes over his forearm, a soft _ shhh _ under her breath as she shifts a little in his hold.

All in all, not a bad night, somehow.

Well, apart from the earlier bits, but that’s still a bit too mortifying to think about.

By the time morning comes around, she’s out cold. Too used to sleeping until noon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, friendship. 
> 
> Drop us a comment, my dudes, I'd love to hear a reaction to this chapter xD


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Of course when he wakes up, Alex is still dead asleep. Jonas rouses himself with a jaw-cracking yawn, pulling away from her enough to stretch out on the mattress before finally prying his eyes open. He feels more tired than he probably should, but that’s a small price to pay for making sure she was alright, and for going out dancing. Even if he’d only danced a little bit. Still fun.

Glancing over to her after checking his phone for the time (10:30 or so, not terrible), he finds himself almost staring as his sight slides over caribbean blue hair, tanned skin and soft edges. Without a thought he’s smiling, before he catches himself, gnawing at the inside of his cheek, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of her. Not until a pit opens up in his stomach and hunger, along with the guilt from thinking things he shouldn’t, starts screaming at him to go do something other than act like a lovestruck fool.

_…Oh no. _

Fuck.

Okay. That’s a thing. That’s a thing that Jonas will have to deal with sooner or later. Probably later. Later sounds better.

He climbs out of bed, having to untangle covers from his legs as he goes, dousing his face in water to wake himself up before starting for the kitchen. Now, what’s he in the mood for? Pancakes? Toast? French toast, there we go, that’s a winner. Even if the process of getting there is a bit odd. He has to search a bit to find cinnamon, but after gathering everything up, Jonas gets to work on beating the eggs and milk together before adding vanilla and cinnamon. Maybe a bit on the sweeter side, because that’s how he always makes it, but hey. His food, his apartment, his rules. Every so often he checks on Alex again, either just before or just after putting another piece of toast in the pan.

When she isn’t awake after he’s finished off two plates of the stuff, he just rolls his eyes and leaves one of them on the bedside table with the syrup and a glass of milk. Not like he hasn’t eaten in bed before.

-

Alex sleeps like a fuckin’ stone after 8am. It’s just how she works. 8-10 she’s a rock, by 11 she’s getting closer to consciousness, by noon she’s up. (Sometimes. Sometimes it’s 1. Or 2.) When she finally _ does _ stir, it’s to the sound of ceramic on wood. By the time she’s awake enough to look for where the sound came from, she spots a plate on the bedside table, and grins automatically. Things are always better the morning after a breakdown. Getting things out of her system, maybe. Regardless, the smile is determinedly back on her face for the day.

Day one of paying Jonas back for being such a fucking great person.

Which means she _ can’t _ just take advantage of his absence to eat his food and snoop. Damn.

Alex hops up, pulling her hair back into a (slightly less messy) high ponytail, wincing a little at the pain in her foot, but hobbling out of the room anyway, sipping at the glass of milk, food in her other hand.

“Mornin’, angel.” She sets the food at the table and hesitates for a second before taking little steps (on the balls of her feet, ‘cause that’s way easier) into the kitchen and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for last night,” she grins, a little cheekily. It’s half joke - a wink-wink-nudge at their lack of a one night stand - but there’s some sincerity under it.

Sincerity she doesn’t let last, hopping up to peck him on the cheek before asking, casually, as she steps away, eyes wandering, “Okay bud, where’s the peanut butter? I know you have it, you’re an adult with a kitchen that has real food.”

-

“Okay one: don’t walk on your foot because that’s going to give me anxiety if I’ve ever had it before, and two,” Jonas turns enough to grab a jar of peanut butter off of the top shelf, handing it over to her as she glances over the room. Looks like she’s back to normal. Good. “Peanut butter? Why do you need peanut butter?”

He’s in his usual position of eating while leaned on the counter, french toast drizzled in syrup and powdered sugar making his mood almost instantly perk up. Always has had a bit of a sweet tooth, even if Jonas would never admit that to anyone and admittedly takes his coffee black in public. At home he usually has about five sugars and some creamer in there. Which— is that really coffee anymore? Eh. Still counts, it’s a caffeinated drink. Does that mean sodas count as coffee? Tea counts as coffee?

Jonas still doesn’t know why Alex wanted peanut butter. He’s far slower on the uptake in the mornings, even if he wakes up early.

-

“Fanfuckingtastic.” Alex takes the jar from him in one fell swoop, heading back to her food on the table. “God, I should buy peanut butter. Did you buy me peanut butter? It’s so frickin’ delicious.” She’s spreading it over her french toast before drenching the whole thing in syrup. Sweet, salty, bread-y, egg-y, nutty. Perfect.

-

He was going to ask about the peanut butter, what exactly she planned to do with it, but that’s out of his head by the time she's finished her sentence. That, and it’s a pretty obvious answer when she starts slathering her toast with it. Odd. Not terrible, but odd.

-

She hums her contentment as she eats, taking the whole plate with her back into the kitchen to keep Jonas company, returning the peanut butter. The lighting is way better in the morning, and she’s getting a lot better a look at him now than she did the night before. An eyebrow raises as she catches some ink peeking just over the waistband of his sweats. Looks like maybe a tree or something. She can only see a bit of it. Risque spot for a tattoo, though, which makes her smirk. She had her the piece on her upper thigh done wearing bikini bottoms (and had searched the West coast to find the right artist to execute it), but there’s no way he could’ve gotten that done without getting awfully _ familiar _ with the artist.

Alex really tries not to show the sheer amount of appreciation she has for his body as she drags her eyes back to his face. Nope. This has been established. The kiss was a pity kiss, the cuddle a comfort cuddle, and if they hook up it’ll be as friends and nothing more. _ If. _ No guarantees. Highly unlikely, actually, given his sheer Good Christian Boy-ness. Good Reformed Boy, maybe, given his admission of the night before. Even if her image of him doesn’t quite gel with the ‘picked up a girl at the club for a one night stand.’ The girl hadn’t been her. It had been some adorable charming southern belle, not a wild child with a dirty mouth.

So that was his type. She has to wonder what he looks for in a guy. She tends to go for sorts like herself, usually. Complete dumpster fires who are up til 3 on the regular. All genders. If she can find them pissing in an alley past 2am, they’re (unfortunately) her type. It’s a fact she acknowledges to herself wryly. Not to say she doesn’t absolutely lust after Jonas’s type. They just don’t tend to run in the same circles, not since college, when she had a much wider range of daily encounters. And she definitely had some interesting flings in college. Alex blinks those thoughts away, ‘cause they aren’t particularly productive, even if she has a bit of nostalgic fondness for them.

“I’m gonna be your wingwoman,” she announces, determinedly. “I owe you more than one— as you’ve stated. If I hooked you up with Li’l Miss Dimples, I can do it again.”

-

And then Alex mentions his recent one night stand. Jonas nearly chokes on his drink.

“You’re gonna _ what? _” Jonas is really hoping he heard that wrong, because based off of his earlier realization, that might kill him. Literally. Coughing, he sets his plate down on the counter behind him, hitting his sternum in an attempt to clear his lungs. “Jesus Christ—” It’s out of reflex that he crosses himself, “You don’t have to do that.”

-

Alex is laughing out loud. She can’t not, with a reaction like that. “Ha! Wow, no, seriously! All you gotta do is tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll keep an eye out and hype you up and— y’know… wingwoman stuff.” Admittedly, she doesn’t have a whole lot of experience in the field, but it can’t be that difficult, right? And she’s set on doing it now, smile growing with her enthusiasm as she forgets her peanut-butter-and-syrup drenched french toast.

“I’ll be— like those pigs, right? The truffle hunting pigs.” Those are a thing that exist. “I will sniff out your ideal hookup. But probably not use the term sniff, ‘cause creepy.” She tilts her head, tapping it in a _ see, I know what I’m talking about, I know creepy _ (because of course she does) way, still grinning wickedly. “I’ll drag my finds to the Kanaloa for your approval, maybe. Bring you my catch of the day so you can have your wicked way with them.” There’s no possible way she could keep a straight face through this, so she doesn’t bother trying. “I’ll have contributed to the corruption of an angel and my demon overlords will be unendingly pleased.”

-

“Truffle hunting pigs.” Jonas opens his mouth to say more on the matter, but she’s already off on a tangent. “No— No, do _ not _ bring them to me when I’m on the clock. I’d prefer if you just didn’t at all.”

Sure they need the business, but he doesn’t need the extra problems that would come along with it. And besides, that had been a fluke. Maddie had been a fluke, he usually stays away from places like the Island, along with their patrons. Because there could be some bad blood going down. Even if it is new, and even if Alex is working there. Jonas has only ever been the once. He intends to keep it that way. Besides, they’re the competition. Yeah. He can just keep telling himself that. Perfect.

-

Her gesticulation with a fork loaded with french toast may not have been the best idea. Luckily Alex spots the syrup running down her arm before it gets on anything else, setting the fork back on her plate and contorting herself to tongue at the sticky trail on the back of her forearm, shooting him a smirk. “What,” _ lick, _ “too scared I’ll find your-” _ lick _ “-perfect mate, and you’ll be too distracted to keep working?” She looks to her arm again, cleaning up the last of the syrup. And, okay, fine, he has a point. It’s bad business to sleep with customers. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, though.

-

Jonas really shouldn’t be staring at her, but fuck it, he is. Mental whiplash is doing nothing for him, and Alex is still talking, even as syrup runs down her arm and she’s trying to get that last bit off of her elbow; which manages to make him laugh. Because no one can do that. But still, he shouldn’t be paying this much attention to one simple little action. Instead he waves the intrusive thoughts of blue hair and tan skin away with a shake of his head, muttering, “Mostly afraid of whomever you deem randomly fuckable, but sure, we’ll go with that. Seriously though. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let you just send people over. I don’t— Okay, not often— Just don’t. Please.”

-

He doesn’t… what? Alex is giving him that skeptical grin, a sarcastic “Mmmhm,” as she works on the rest of her breakfast. Another bite and she looks down at the meal like she’s just seeing it. “Okay, obviously this must be some kind of divine blessing, ‘cause I don’t think I’ve ever dated a guy who could cook for real.” Not that they’re dating. “Even Ren is pretty shit at anything beyond assembling a salad or cooking, like_…_ eggs.” At least, the last time Ren had been in charge of getting her meals. And yeah, alright, french toast isn’t the hardest thing in the world, but this is now the second thing he’s cooked her and both have gone beyond edible straight to delicious. But maybe her standards are low. Scratch that, she _ knows _ her standards are low. Still, she’s impressed.

-

And he’s going to choke on air, apparently, because when the hell did dating get into the picture? Jonas manages to cover it up with a confused kind of look, though her mention of Blondie is a good enough topic to jump to so he can avoid where the conversation might be going. “Well, I do in fact _ cook for real, _ whatever that’s meant to mean. Seemed like he was getting most of his skills from his girl, anyways. She was nice.” She was nice. Nona, Nona was nice. He’s never been great with names. “You need to work tonight? ‘Cause I’d advise keeping off the foot.”

Seriously. He’s going to have a heart attack if she keeps walking on it.

-

“Ah… Actually no.” She’s glancing down at her foot, pulling a face as she goes on. “Off for the night. Tuesday/Wednesday weekend for me.” Alex points and flexes, pursing her lips at the little tug of pain. After a second of contemplation, she shrugs. “I can pad my boots. It’ll be fine.” At the mention of her own clothes, she is suddenly too aware that she is not wearing them.

“Oh.” Stuffing the last bite of food into her mouth, Alex goes to the sink to dump her plate. “I should probably change back into my stuff from last night.” Probably not the most beautifully scented thing at the moment, but she’ll do a trip to the basement machines when she gets home. Speaking of which. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a ride home in your no doubt _ weirdly clean _ car, huh?”

-

He opens his mouth to warn her about the whole padding thing, and then she makes a comment about having a car. Which he definitely doesn’t. “Wouldn’t mind giving you a ride at all. Let me go grab the keys to my bike, I’ll meet you out back.”

Jonas gives her a little salute, and then ducks from the kitchen to run back into his room.

-

Alex might have gone a little weak in the knees, with a squeaked “_…_bike?” as he left the room.

A bike. A motorcycle. Fucking Christ, how— who— what even—

She takes the opportunity with him out of sight to exhale, bending over down to her knees and shaking her head. He’s a fuckin’ Lance. Okay? He’s a Brick, or a Slade, or a Steele. Or a… fuckin’_…_ _ Jonas. _

Alex groans. Too hot. Why. He shouldn’t be allowed. His mere existence at this point makes her dangerously into him. “_…_Fucking hell,” she breathes, before straightening. She’s got this. Even if the prospect of having her legs around him on a fuckin' motorcycle is swoon-worthy.

She never should’ve started reading paperback romances.

-

After tugging on one of his usual outfits (standard jeans and a tee) plus his biking jacket, he grabs both the keys to his motorcycle and a pair of sunglasses before heading out. Just a quick trip down the stairs and around the back, and then he’s pulling the bike around to the front, sunglasses perched on his forehead so that he can flick them down when they actually start the ride. Here’s hoping she doesn’t mind the windblown look. Based off of his prior experience, though, he doubts that’s so uncommon for her.

-

After stripping off his clothes to change back into her own (dry, but a little stale, and she totally steals his deodorant to help with that), Alex is unusually quiet waiting for him to pull his bike around. Her shoes from the night before are a pain in the ass, but again: walking on the balls of her feet is better than on her injured heel.

Also, okay, maybe some small vain part of her is cackling madly that she looks so fuckin' badass riding on the back of a bike in heels. She’s like a 50s pinup and it’s glorious.

The trip back to her apartment building is short, but she doesn’t mind taking the opportunity to straight-up bear hug Jonas and be creepily into the feeling of riding on a motorcycle. “This is so fucking cool,” she mumbles into his back as they go, mostly to herself, since she’s pretty sure he can’t hear her (admittedly childish) delighted whisper.

-

Jonas cannot, in fact, hear her. Though he’s more than happy to drop Alex at her apartment building (and walk her up the steps because he’s not a cretin), circling back to grab his equipment and go to the gym just after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy have another chapter my friends! Chapters all around! Fictober, two separate WIPs, So it Goes finally completed- WOW I (and we) have posted a lot this month.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

The next few weeks pass by in a blur of work, worry, and wages. Which probably isn’t a good thing. The Kanaloa is still going under, though that’s hardly new, and Alex continues trying to hook him up with people despite his protests. So he takes a break. He stops contact for a while, heads down to his dad’s place, and just gives himself breathing room. Because Jonas is going to choke on the smog if he keeps trying to block out all the thoughts in his head. His father is more than happy to harbor him while he’s there, and he’s grateful for most of the advice given, but some of it is… less than ideal, to put it into better words.

When Jonas drags himself back into Portland as the sun goes down, he’s exhausted socially, but at least a little bit better in attitude. He clambers up the steps and into bed before he can really think about it.

In the morning, he regrets sleeping in the jacket. No room to move. That might have brought on the nightmares, or made them worse. The ones from the chop shop. Jobs gone wrong, or someone fucking up bad enough to elicit punishment— all manner of things. But that was last night. Now, he has to be the Good Christian Boy again. At least, that’s what Alex called him. He should text her. He’s been radio silent for a while, but that was to everyone. So hopefully she doesn’t hate him. Maybe should’ve thought this through better, too.

Alex   
  
Hey, Al.   
  
Sorry for the disappearing act, headed up to my dad’s for the week.   
  
Yeah, wtf Jojo   
  
I tried to bring this adorable twink to the Kanaloa and Reggie said you’d dipped   
  
Also like give him some credit, he was really trying that night   
  
Not sure how he’s done since tho, I’ve been ehhhh busy   
  
Heh

-

Alex grins to her phone, stretching out on her bed. Up before noon. And not alone.

“Who you textin’, babe?”

“Friend.” She shrugs, sets the phone aside, curls in toward her bed-mate, cheek to stomach.

Her name is Frankie and she’s the fuckin’ best.

At least, to Alex she is. She’s Alex’s type— too bold by half, all sharp grins and leather jackets, shitkickers and take-charge attitude. Curves for days, hair a mess of dark brown waves with an undercut hidden on one side, a smile like the devil himself. The first night she hit on Alex, they ended up making out in the bathroom while Alex was on a fifteen minute break. (It was supposed to be ten.) In the next few days numbers were exchanged, texting happened (sexting happened) and then they were stumbling back to Alex’s place some Wednesday night at 2am, all mouths and hands.

She’s kind of great in bed. Giving in a way that feels closer to taking, which is— well, Alex likes it. There isn’t a _ ton _ to their relationship beyond the sex, to be honest, but that’s nothing new for Alex, and over time she’s worn Frankie down a bit, worming her way just a tiny bit closer emotionally. Still, dates aren’t much of a thing, mostly because of Alex’s schedule (she thinks?), though Frankie has shown up at the Island practically every night, and Alex’s breaks are often spent clutching at the top of a bathroom stall or biting the heel of her palm to keep from getting caught in the back room. And when they _ do _ go out, Frankie is always the one paying, the one guiding, the one proposing activities, and Alex feels straight up _ pampered. _

Alex is smitten. Frankie is just… cool. She’s so _ fucking _ cool. In a week Alex has already acquired a secondhand tube of black lipstick (and procured the stuff she needs to clean it off because the woman gets her mouth _ everywhere _ and Alex doesn’t want all her clothes stained), and a few more tops exchanged for some of her own. Her favorite is a ripped up old tank that feels _ important_, because it’s all worn in, and when she asks Frankie says it’s from her old high school. Which feels… Well, Alex feels kinda special. That something that has been with her- yeah, her _ girlfriend_, Alex will go ahead and call her that— something that’s been with her for so long has been passed on to Alex with that degree of trust.

They’ve been seeing each other basically nonstop for three, nearly four weeks. At first, Alex hadn’t mentioned her to Jonas ‘cause— well, she’s _ his _ wingwoman, and he doesn’t need to know about her hookups. But now Frankie is a bit more than just a hookup.

“Oooh, a friend.” Frankie teases, hand winding into Alex’s hair in a way that practically has her purring.

“Mmhm.”

“A friend from the club?”

God, Alex can’t concentrate with that little tug at her scalp. “Hm? Mm-mm.”

“Friend from college?”

It’s like a switch for her, the hand in her hair, tilting her head back for easier access as Frankie slides down to begin one of the most enjoyable interrogations Alex has ever endured. She’s a puddle of happy noises as Frankie’s mouth meets her skin. “Mm-mm.”

“High school?” Giggles shake Alex’s frame even as Frankie holds her still, a hand pushing her into the mattress as she straddles her.

“Are you jealous?” Alex teases.

That fucking grin. If Alex is the demon to Jonas’s angel, she’s in good company with Frankie. “So what if I am?”

“Good.” Alex hisses for a second at the rough tug at her hair, before her grin is matching Frankie’s. “What, don’t like a little competition for my attention? ...Scared?”

For a few minutes they both forget about the texts, and the person who sent them, too caught up in the much more entertaining business of Frankie trying to extract an apology from Alex, who is loath to make it when the consequences are so fun.

-

Alex   
  
Still don’t like you calling me Jojo.   
  
At all.   
  
Even then, why the hell would you send over a twink of all people? Jesus Al.

He’s texting one-handed as he unpacks his things, mostly just tossing them onto the bed to be found at a later time. Jonas is tired, and if they end up on the ground by the end of the day, that is a problem for Future-Jonas to deal with. Right now he’s Present-Jonas, and Present-Jonas is still fucking exhausted. It’s not surprising that Alex doesn’t respond right away, based on the time and how she generally seems to be. What did she say her weekends were again? Monday Tuesday? Different than his, but working at a club, that’s fitting. The Kanaloa should be fine for another day if he takes a small break. Just a little one. Fix his schedule, or something.

Alex   
  
Al.   
  
If you’re fucking you could at least have the decency to like   
  
Tell me.

Being left on read is boring.

-

“Your _ friend _ is getting real impatient,” Frankie observes flatly.

Alex lets out a melodramatic sigh, sliding out from under her, hands lingering with a kind of apologetic promise, before she reaches for her phone. The message makes her smirk. With a kind of pointed playfulness, she holds her phone before her, turning on dictation as she stares straight at Frankie. “Busy. Period. Fucking. Period.” And clicks send. “Better?”

-

Alex   
  
Busy. Fucking.   
  
Oh my God.   
  
You jackrabbit.

-

It’s not til Frankie has gone off to do… whatever she does for the day (_sales_, whatever that means), that Alex finally flops onto her bed, flushed and grinning. Jonas’s text nearly has her cackling.

Hot Jonas   
  
Hey, I’m trying to get you laid. Not my fault you’re a prude ;P   
  
And he was cuuuute   
  
Reminded me of Ren tbh, might be why I thought of you   
  
Next time I’ll go for someone suuuper masc okay   
  
He’s asked about you btw   
  
Ren did

Well, specifically, he’d asked if they’d gotten together (among other things). Which meant Alex had to very carefully edit her recounting of the whole Dance Night Debacle to strategically exclude the whole _ you caused this with your ability to move on _ bit. But after sending far too many exclamation points in reaction to ‘slept in his bed and wore his clothes with a whole lotta nothing underneath,’ Alex had had to let him down with the whole ‘now I’m gonna set him up with other people ‘cause he’s definitely not into me but I really don’t want to lose him as a friend’ thing.

…It’s maybe a little complicated.

-

Alex   
  
You’re trying and failing to corrupt me, really.   
  
But it’s not like I have much left to be corrupted if anything at all.   
  
This is fruitless.   
  
Also, Ren? Of all people you think I’d go for REN?   
  
When you’re RIGHT THERE?   
  
No.

Jonas is tired, and that wording is maybe a little off, but he can’t help it. Just calling it like he sees. And right now he sees that Ren is a twiggy blonde who’s already in a very committed relationship with a woman who he doesn’t think he wants to fuck with. Sure, she’s nice, but she could also probably kill him. Learned that from experience.

-

Hot Jonas   
  
Shhh I’m trying to let him live vicariously thru someone else   
  
Basically we’d all bang you Jonas.   
  
Literally everyone on earth.   
  
Not to be creepy or anything

He knows how she is. She’s straightforward, that’s all; tells it like it is. Alex rolls onto her back, kicking a foot over a lifted knee to bop aimlessly up and down. Fidgeting, rereading his text as the bubble pops up that he’s replying.

Wait.

Her grin grows, and she starts another message.

She’s already taken a screencap and is cropping it to just the relevant line, ignoring the first text from him before tapping back to messages and sending it back.

Hot Jonas   
  
So what you’re telling me.   
  
Is that you’re letting Ren have some kind of weird long winded love affair with me.   
  
But in his head.   
  
  
Something you need to tell me Jonas? Unfortunately for you, I’m actually taken. 😘

-

The message gives him pause. Apparently, he’d missed more than a bit of her social life while he was away, because that isn’t something Jonas had been aware of beforehand.

Alex   
  
Since when?   
  
Shit I missed a lot.   
  
Since recently.   
  
Admittedly not as ripped as you but   
  
Better tits.   
  
Since recently isn’t a date, Al, but sure.   
  
Guess I need to play a game of catchup.   
  
Does she have a name, or do you just call her ‘Better Tits’?   
  
Since a few weeksish.   
  
Well I will now, thanks for the idea. Sure she’ll love it.   
  
Admittedly, I did not say she was a she. So work on those pecs, angel.   
  
Said she was a she now.   
  
Also. How dare you.   
  
Well drat, you’ve found me out.   
  
Do your… press ups or whatever. Get some titties, Jonas.   
  
That is NOT how you work out your chest.   
  
Bench pressing or pullovers. The easy one is pullovers.   
  
I’m not gonna continue with my original debate but there’s that.   
  
Bitch, do I *look* like I work out?   
  
Do I look like I WORK??   
  
I believe the term is pillow princess   
  
Idk ask my girlfriend ;P   
  
If you told me who your girlfriend WAS, I’d be happy to.   
  
But right now I just have the phrase ‘Better Tits’ and the realization of she/her pronouns.   
  
I ain’t got shit.   
  
I’ll bring her by the bar.   
  
You can marvel at her tits yourself   
  
Tastefully   
  
Or, other option:   
  
I just don’t do that.   
  
At all.   
  
You won’t be able to resist.   
  
Shame on you, lecherous boy   
  
I’ll bring her by tomorrow night, I’m not working and it’s unofficial date night   
  
Yeah no still not gonna.   
  
Also - as in by the Kanaloa?   
  
Cause if you do that then I’m legally required to tell you not to make trouble.   
  
First off: how dare YOU   
  
I have never once brought trouble to your workplace   
  
(Apart from maybe that first night)   
  
(But that didn’t go anywhere so I think I’m cleared on that)   
  
Secondly: with you as a good influence how could I ever misbehave?   
  
…   
  
You know what I’m not even gonna list all the things I could say as far as misbehavior goes.   
  
Because there are A LOT. Like, a LOT a lot.   
  
I mean you’re basically a cyclone of trouble and misbehavior.   
  
Still don’t have a name for that girl of yours.   
  
Pshhh Better Tits will meet you there.   
  
In the meantime, how’s things in your neck of the woods?   
  
How was the trip to daddy-o’s   
  
Ugh, God, that’s terrifying. Jesus.   
  
It was fine. Hadn’t seen him in a while, needed the time to catch up.   
  
Visited my mom too, technically, but. Y’know. Can’t talk.

-

Alex hesitates, feeling that touch of hurt creeping in between her ribs.

Hot Jonas   
  
💖   
  
Proud of you, though.

She still hasn’t mentioned Michael to him. That thought is enough to make her feel guilty and uncomfortable all at once. Her hands drop to her sides as she sighs. God, she wishes she could hug him right now. As much for him as for her, when it all comes down to it. But that’s not happening.

-

It’s not quite something he expects. Both her response, and the speed to it. Jonas has only told her the bare minimum of information on his mother, how she died, and all his life he’s done everything he can to avoid it. But Alex is different. She just seems different, more protected, or open. Things he can’t bring himself to be.

The guilt comes back, and his alarm goes off.

Alex   
  
Shit.   
  
Sorry, gotta run.   
  
Theo’s texting me for a last minute training session.   
  
But thanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I (Turner) have failed (or opted, let's go with opted) out of completing fictober, I decided to just spruce this up to post instead! More of that good good texting banter, gotta love it. Also, we meet Frankie! Yay Frankie! No worries, it's still Jonalex endgame, but this is a friends to lovers fic, so... 
> 
> If you like this style of back-and-forth messages, you might want to go check out [Blue Hair, Red Jacket](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074483), where there's some note-passing (and me learning to code in images and hover text). I've made a ton of note graphics for that that could use the appreciation xD
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Drop any questions, comments, reactions, or fave moments in the comments ^^
> 
> -Turner


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready to learn a bit about someone's ~mysterious past?~

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

“Hey, angel.” Alex slides onto the stool at the center of the bar, grinning. She’s actually done her hair for tonight, which is a step up from her usual day off carefree look (and she actually spent time on it, too, ‘cause it’s date night - ish - and she wants to look good— she broke out a curling iron and everything!), and is sporting a brand new (old) tank and leather jacket. They are, of course, not hers. Benefits of having a girlfriend, even if the jacket is a bit too big in a way that can’t pass for slouchy in quite the same manner as the tank can.

Frankie should be showing up soon. Alex said 8:30 and it’s 8:33. But Frankie is like her: frequently late. Hell, Alex just showed, too. Frankie might be a few more minutes, since she actually has a car to find parking for.

Alex might be a tiny bit nervous for Jonas to meet Frankie. Never the other way around, because Frankie is crazy good with other people (to the point that Alex may sometimes get a little jealous). But Jonas is the Good one. Frankie is the devil on her shoulder. And if Jonas doesn’t approve… Nah. She doesn’t need his approval. Though it would be nice. Alex thinks the fact that she’s been taking better care of herself lately should make him proud - and she chalks it entirely up to Frankie - but who knows. It’s his job to guardian, after all. Might feel like he’s being replaced. (Though he was the one who’d disappeared for a week, week and a half.)

Drumming her fingers on the bar, Alex leans back a little with a mischievous smile. “Got a surprise for you.”

-

“Let me guess— ‘Better Tits’ is coming in. Because you literally told me about this yesterday.” Jonas has an easy smile on his face for two reasons. One: Alex just walked in the room, and two: he’s been more relaxed than normal as of late. Theo had kicked his ass, sure, but she was always fun to talk with after he’d dealt with his own personal problems. She’d been there for him through a lot of the harder issues. Now, she still is. Though he’s quiet in pouring a shot of tequila and sliding it over to Alex. May as well ‘celebrate’ considering she’s found someone to entertain herself with for a little while. Wow that is a horrible thought. Jesus.

The business is still slow, and he’s serving drinks to regulars as they come up from a game of pool, while Daniel and Reggie both chat in the office. Jonas can’t catch too much of the conversation because the jukebox is playing, and he’s working on putting ice in a glass, when another little fact catches his eye. The shirt Alex has on is new. Well— not new in the sense that is was bought recently, but he hasn’t seen it before. Upon closer examination, he can already feel dread like a cold claw stretching into his throat. The North Valley Hawks. Or, the same mascot image he’s seen nearly a thousand times in his high school years, pasted right there in front of him.

…But that means—

The door opens again, and Jonas freezes in place, one hand still on a glass with the other halfway up to the back of his neck. Frankie. Frankie, who’s just a couple years younger than he is, and was one of the biggest ties to his past that he’d rather forget, is standing in the doorway. She doesn’t look anything like she used to. More makeup, more flair, but with the same general features. Something Alex would go for in a heartbeat. How did he not see this coming? What has he been thinking about? Which cue did he miss? Jonas forces himself to swallow, but there’s a ball of cotton in his throat when he locks eyes with Frankie, who just offers a wink and a grin. Alex doesn’t know. Alex _ doesn’t _ know, that was a signal from when— Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck _ fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. _

-

She walks in the door like she owns the place, but that’s par for the course. Alex turns at the sound of the door, lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

Frankie’s eyes slip off of Jonas and straight onto Alex like she’s only got eyes for her blue-haired paramour, that grinning smirk that is just ever so slightly sharper than Alex’s own spreading on dark lips before she’s made it to the bar and grabbed Alex by the lapels, pulling her in for a kiss that’s harder than usual in a way that makes Alex far too happy. It’s possessive - half a show - and Alex is so lost in it, a soft pliant noise slipping from her lips, that she doesn’t notice the glance her girlfriend shoots to the bartender.

They go on maybe— no, _ definitely _ longer than is necessary for a ‘hello’ kiss. It’s an exhibition Alex is more than willing to participate in. Heated, messy, and Alex would be falling off of her stool in her eagerness to get at Frankie if the woman wasn’t standing close enough to keep her from doing so. When they finally do break apart, Frankie’s thumb comes up to swipe away the smudges of lipstick that have smeared over Alex’s mouth.

“Hi.” Alex is a little breathless, pupils blown out as she gradually comes back to herself from her daze, Frankie’s hand cupping her cheek.

“Hey, baby.” It’s a purr, followed up by another kiss - slow and sweet and Jesus _ Christ _ she’s good with her tongue. Alex is practically putty. It’s a little unfair, to do this to her in public, but hell; Alex is into it. She’s grown attached to attention. When Frankie pulls away again, she’s making a contemplative face. “Tequila?”

Alex smiles broadly. Is it bad that she finds it crazy hot Frankie can taste it on her? Whatever. It is. “Mmhm.”

Frankie finally turns to look at Jonas full on, maybe a little smug, flicking a credit card from some hidden pocket to toss on the bar. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

There’s a snort from a man a couple seats down the bar, and Alex bursts into laughter, hand on Frankie’s arm. “Oh my god.”

“What? I will!” If she could ever pass for innocent at any point in her life, it certainly isn’t now.

Alex cackles, and turns to Jonas. “I told you-” But he looks… off. Alex’s voice falters, fading away as she cocks her head. “You okay, bud?” She lets out an awkward half laugh, but the worry in her eyes is sincere.

“Yeah,” Frankie’s eyes are too wide as she looks over as well, and there’s almost a mocking pout on her smudged lips. “You okay? ‘_Bud _’?”

-

This is whiplash of the highest form. Jonas’s mind is switching wildly from one course of action to another, trying to gauge both his past and his present at the same time, before one finally just turns ** _on_**_. _

He’s going to fucking kill her. Plain as day, simple as night, he’s going to shoot Frankie in the head when this is all over. A terse smile stretches over his lips, a look Alex has never seen on him before, all bared teeth and barely hidden disdain. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t even be thinking about this. But old habits die hard, and this is a habit he hasn’t had the patience - nor time - to break. It just sits there like a cat in the doorway. Frankie recognizes the look. One of runs gone bad, one of an uncooperative client, one of the Jonas Signatures. A surefire sign that he was going to pummel someone into the ground within the next fifteen minutes. But it’s the first time it’s been directed toward her.

“Course I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice is all bite and venom as he spins on his heel, flicking the towel that had been in his hands over one shoulder as he pours another shot. “No need for the card though. Alex’s told me _ all _ about _ you. _ Seem perfect for one another.”

Jonas isn’t really lying, but he’s certainly ready to spring on someone, taut like a bowstring. They don’t even take AmEx, is that some kind of ploy? Just rubbing shit in his face? It’s like her. Like Frankie. Like her boyfriend. God, he’s going to kill her. He should be trying to calm down, to act civil, but that just isn’t working. There are a million reasons why Frankie would be here with her. Maybe they really just met up, maybe she’s left the life behind like he did, but that doesn’t seem right. Alex works at a club. Frankie isn’t exactly a stranger to that environment, since it’s the sort of crowd she used to favor with her little side hustle.

It’s all coming together now, isn’t it?

A shot glass is slid over the counter of the bar without another word, almost too casually. Just waiting for the right moment. Just waiting for someone to shoot. He’s still tense, still smiling that scimitar smile, as he leans on the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. There’s a crack in the rim of the glass.

-

Frankie’s eyes have narrowed on Jonas, not keen on being challenged, especially by a guy who pussied out after just a few years. Even if that stone cold mockery of a smile chills her, she doesn’t look about to back down. In fact, while Alex’s eyes are flicking curiously over Jonas, concernedly trying to figure out where the sudden tension is coming from, Frankie is practically sneering, slipping her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders. It’s a power play, really, maybe gloating a little, staring straight at Jonas as her thumb traces Alex’s jaw.

Alex looks to Frankie, then back to Jonas, then back to Frankie. Is this… some kind of… territory thing? If it is, she has to admit she’s finding it kinda hot. A little surprising, that Jonas would be jealous, since… they’re nothing, really. Friends. Just friends. But Alex already knows Frankie’s possessive. It’s nice, feeling wanted. She tilts her head to let Frankie’s touch stroke down her neck, resting her head on Frankie’s shoulder with a little sigh and closing her eyes. If Jonas wants to be jealous, fine.

Frankie’s fingers slide over Alex’s skin, curving around her throat, and it’s a second before Alex realizes what exactly is happening as Frankie’s thumb and forefinger press against the veins on either side of her neck until she can feel the pulse under her skin. Jesus fucking Christ, at the bar? Really? That’s usually a bedroom-only activity. Alex obviously has a slight exhibitionistic tendency, ‘cause she doesn’t stop it right away, though her eyes are half-lidded as she shoots a sidelong glance at her girlfriend, choking her in broad daylight - evening light? early night light? - because, fuck, Frankie is just Like That and it makes Alex’s knees weak. Which is no good at the moment, so Alex pulls away with a sheepish grin, slapping Frankie’s hand down but unable to look at all angry. “You’re gonna get us kicked out!” Honestly, not usually something Alex is worried about, but she’s also not used to having to look out for someone more wild than she is.

Frankie chucks a finger under Alex’s chin to catch another quick kiss before turning back to the bartender. “Jonas wouldn’t do that to us, would you Jonas?”

Alex isn’t quite sure if she’s mentioned Jonas’s name before, still feeling the rush of blood to the head making her flushed and a little lightheaded for a second or two as she grins. “He’s a stickler for the rules, this one. A real bad-boy-gone-good. He would totally-” Oh. “Oh god, I can’t believe I haven’t—” Alex shakes her head with a laugh. “Jonas, this is Frankie. Frankie, Jonas.”

-

Oh, he would just _ love _ to kick her out. That would be the highlight of his night, absolutely, but Alex is with her. And she doesn’t know. So instead Jonas keeps that terse smile on his face, head inclining just a bit as he takes on an almost condescending tone. “We’re acquainted. High school, remember? Year or two behind me? Those were the _ good _ old days.” Spent either in the chop shop or guiltily avoiding his family. “Nice to see you again, Francesca. Didn’t expect you to be in the neighborhood.”

Jonas hadn’t expected her at all. But now he’s taking it in stride the best he can, listening to whatever song is playing on the jukebox as background noise, grin only widening. He looks like a caged animal, something almost feral but not quite there yet. If the tension doesn’t break soon, he might go crazy. Not as if that’s anything new for him. Or, new for the old him. That’s an odd thought. A part of his mind is blaring out warning signs, screaming code red in his face, but Jonas is pointedly ignoring that part of him. The dial swings wide.

Frankie’s head is gonna get crushed in. One way or another. And if she keeps putting those grubby fucking hands on Alex— Well. He has a lot to say about that.

-

Alex is pretty sure she’s never heard Jonas sound so _ mean_. It distracts her from her girlfriend, watching him with a wary curiosity, because that just… _ doesn’t _ sound like Jonas. It’s enough to edge into the pleasant buzz of an almost-high she gets around Frankie, a chilly shock of reality that grounds her rather suddenly, gaze sharpening to once more glance between the two of them.

“…Okay, I must be-”

“Shh-” Frankie has a hand on Alex’s chin again, dragging her face back to focus on her, kissing her to cut off her comment. “It’s fine, baby. It was all a long time ago. Nothing to do with you.”

It doesn’t do much to pacify her. Alex’s brow creases for a second, because that sounds like they didn’t get along - and Jonas’s smile is terrifying in a way she _ knows _ she likes too much for it to be healthy, and it seems to say the same thing. But she doesn’t try to step in again. Not gonna get in the middle of whatever this is.

Frankie’s lips are tight, a sort of irritable smirk as she looks back to Jonas. “Me and a few friends moved into the area recently.” _ I’m not alone here. _ “It’s nice having a few familiar faces around.” _ I have backup. _ “Set up a kind of…” her eyes flick to Alex, but Alex is staring intently at Jonas, frowning, visibly fidgety, because despite what she might think she’s shit at hiding her feelings, “…small business.” _ Don’t get in our way. _“What about you, Long? Is this where you ran—”

“Ow-” Alex has a hand to her mouth, empty shot glass in her other hand (because why leave perfectly good booze on the counter if it could be used to make this moment feel less horribly awkward). When she pulls it away, it’s bloody. “Fuck.” She swipes her tongue over her lip, sucking it into her mouth and trying to find where the cut is, examining the shot glass. “What the fuck, angel, why are you using cracked glassware?” Sharp eyes look to him accusingly, but it’s less personal and more professional admonishment. They both know better, with their experience.

-

Jonas is about to spit something back at Frankie when Alex cuts herself on the glass. There’s a barely seen wince, and his grin falters for only a moment, a concerned look replacing it until he schools himself back into anger. Frankie’s glass caused it. Meaning he has even more reason to be angry. Unless, of course, he were actually focusing and being smart about his actions. Which he isn’t.

“Sorry, Ms. Blue Curaçao. Won’t happen again.” That’s the first time he’s called her anything other than her name, or some variation of it.

-

Frankie sucks in a sympathetic hiss of breath, turning to Alex to once more take her face in hand, and Alex shoots Jonas one last half-concerned, half-irritated look before locking eyes with her girlfriend again. “Poor baby.”

Alex is not a fan of that phrase. And Frankie knows it. Which must be why her pout shifts into a grin. Which, admittedly, does make Alex feel a little better.

Frankie’s thumb pulls down Alex’s lip to examine the damage, her other hand holding her fast, woven into the hair at the nape of her neck to keep her from pulling away. Alex winces a little when the cut is found, but the firm hold keeps her still enough, even if she can’t help but test it. Frankie’s eyes light, sparking with something wicked that Alex is sure other people have seen in her, and when her thumb pauses at Alex’s lips again, Alex narrows her eyes. She has to be kidding. Her eyes flick to Jonas as if to say, _ really? He’s right there. _ And Frankie grins and lets go, popping her finger in her own mouth for a second instead, to clean it.

“You’re gross,” Alex deadpans with a wry smile. “But I love you.”

“Go clean yourself up, babe.”

Alex rolls her eyes, but does as she’s told with an apologetic look to Jonas. Just a couple minutes to figure this out, stop the bleeding. It should be fine. Slipping off her bar stool, she heads for the bathroom.

Frankie turns to Jonas with a barely civil sneer. “One: don’t call me _ fucking _ Francesca, Jonas.” Her tone has lost the soft murmur she had when dealing with Alex, instead a smooth and bitter sarcastic disdain. “And two: why is _ my girlfriend _ calling you ‘angel?’”

-

“Wouldn’t you like to know, _ Francesca._” The spoken ‘r’ is a rolled mockery, as he kicks off of the wall to slowly splay his hands out over the bar. She’s on his turf now. Sure, maybe she has friends, but this is Jonas’s neighborhood. His bar. No way in hell that’s going to make it any better for her particular situation.

-

Frankie rolls her eyes at Jonas’s mockery, annoyance quickly supplanted by smugness. “Fine. If _ you _ don’t want to use it, I’ve got _ her _ moaning my name enough to make up for it.” It’s a pointed look, a victorious smirk, hands shoved into her pockets and chin high.

-

“Though you could go ahead and tell me why the hell you’re here. And with the crew, no less? My my. Business back home not enough?” It almost sounds teasing, and if it weren’t for that little note of hatred in his voice, it would be just like old times. The good old days, as he’d called them. Even if they were never really good. Even if he was cheating the system half the time and running from it the other half.

Even if Frankie was always one step ahead on their plans, while he wasn’t told anything, thought of as more a walking hulk of muscle than brains. Admittedly, that still hurts a bit. Maybe more than a bit. The tips of Jonas’s fingers go white from the pressure he’s putting on wood, leaning just a bit onto the balls of his feet, glowering over her from where he’s standing. He isn’t about to give her the pleasure.

-

His questioning earns him a level stare, like she’s measuring him up, evaluating his threat, deciding if it’s worth it to tell him. “Is it really any of your business? Looks like you’ve gone legit, if she’s so convinced you’re harmless.” Frankie jerks her head toward where Alex disappeared to.

Emboldened by the idea, she pulls her hands from her pockets to lean against the bar. “How long did it take after running for you to go soft?” Her voice has gone too smooth. “Who pulled your teeth, Jonas?” Her smile flashes sharply as it widens: “What lucky boy lifted the lifter?”

-

Jonas barks out a heated laugh, shaking his head at Frankie’s accusation. It’s his business if she’s still dealing, with someone he considers a friend all wound up in the middle of it. And, if she’s still with the old crew, still with Michael— Well. That would be even worse. That would be two-timing. That would be cheating. And that might hurt Alex more than it’d hurt him. The thought makes him consider his next words, even as he leans a bit forward, one eyebrow raised in an almost cocky expression.

“There isn’t a lucky fuckin’ boy, Francesca. I went straight because I do what I damn well please, and I didn’t want to associate with some small fry lawbreakers like _ you _ anymore. Got it?” That isn’t exactly a welcoming tone. It definitely isn’t the same one he had before. It’s more deadly, a poisoned malice to it.

-

“You went _ straight, _ Jonas?” Frankie doesn’t back down. She probably should, but she doesn’t know that. She just sees the old car thief who couldn’t take the heat and ran out of the kitchen with his tail between his legs. Her smile is too sharp, too pointed, too caught on that one word, and taking it personally. “Is this about your shitty part-time at this dump, or your hitting on my girlfriend?”

-

Oh. That isn’t something she should have said. Jonas has one hand wrapped in the fabric of her jacket before he can stop himself, tugging her over the lip of the bar as that grin comes back onto his face. He looks almost deranged. Which definitely isn’t a good thing for Frankie. “You just don’t know how to fuckin’ pace yourself, huh you little chump? Go back to your goddamn turf. Stay in North Valley. Stay far, far away from _ me. _ Or I will not _ hesitate _ to slam your head so hard into the goddamn pavement that it pops like a _ fucking water balloon._”

-

Alex is pretty satisfied that her lip has stopped bleeding, even if it’s a little swollen and dark. Frankie can kiss it better. She smiles to herself at that thought before heading back out to the bar.

Which is… weirdly quiet. No chatter. And when she rounds the corner from the bathrooms she realizes why.

Frankie is on her tiptoes, pulled over the bar by a hand in her collar. _ Jonas’s _ hand in her collar. And he looks pissed. Frankie has gone pale, but looks just as stubborn as always, like she’s seething just under the surface, even if she’s too smart to open her mouth.

Okay, so _ not getting along _ may have been an understatement. They look about to rip each other’s heads off.

“What…” Alex’s steps falter, and her brow furrows, and it’s obvious she’s trying not to look as hurt as she feels. But well… despite what she might think… she’s shit at hiding her feelings. Frankie knows that by now, and it hasn't even been two months.

“Get your _ fucking _ hands off of me, Jonas.” Frankie’s voice is quiet, that simmering rage fueled by disdain and fear. “…Unless you want a fucking _ lawsuit. _ ”

-

There are two different courses of action running through his head. Punch Fankie, make a mistake, end up somewhere he most definitely doesn’t want to be. Back down, lose a battle, win a war. Two pretty simple choices. Doesn’t mean he has to be happy about either of them. Because he’s definitely not happy.

Jonas damn near tosses her back onto the ground, a spat “_Coward! _” through his teeth, as he starts to walk away. Daniel has made his way out from the back, looking more concerned for his employee than for the patron.

“Jonas? Are-”

“I’m going for my break.”

He shoulders past, cigarette already clamped between his teeth. The owner of the Kanaloa is left looking dumbstruck as the rattling of door hinges being slammed echoes through the bar. And just like that, Alex’s guardian angel is gone.

-

Alex’s eyes are wide. He just… he just _ left. _ He’s never just _ left. _ When she was just some annoying drunk girl covered in glitter, when she was throwing herself at him, when she was in tears, hyperventilating, swallowed by doubt, he’d stayed. Jonas is the most patient person she’s ever met. And now… and now he just walked right past her. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but she feels like she’s been stabbed straight through the sternum. “…Angel?” It’s hardly a breath, her eyes following him away, and if she heard herself she’d be ashamed at how childish it sounds. But she doesn’t.

“Alex!”

Things are happening too fast. Alex feels the panic creeping in as she turns to Frankie, who looks livid. And betrayed. There’s a second, as Frankie’s face goes from anger to incredulity, her mouth dropping open.

“You can’t be-”

“No!” God, no. Alex immediately goes to Frankie’s side, because she _ can’t _ lose both of them in one night, she can’t be left alone in a bar where everyone is too focused on her as she loses her metaphorical footing. She’s too relieved that Frankie stays put, that she puts an arm around her, and walks her right out of the bar. Even if anxiety is swelling that she’s leaving scorched earth in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the drama commence. 😏
> 
> I need reactions to this chapter for multiple reasons. xD Lemme know what you think!  
-OWT


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting may be a little odd this chapter. Let it be noted, "*" indicates a passing of time with the same writer (as should be obvious, hopefully), opposed to the usual "-" marking the change from writer to writer (with the exception of text messages). Text messages that are struck out are deleted, unsent messages.
> 
> Another note: there are some pretty blatantly unhealthy relationship dynamics here. If you want triggers listed, feel free to leave a comment on this or the last chapter either before or, if you really want, after reading, and I will add them to this note and/or the tags for the fic. This is partially me not being familiar with the things that should be tagged, and how they relate to the behavior in question. In the meantime, 'unhealthy' will have to suffice.
> 
> (I should also mention that, despite cursory research, I'm sure there are mistakes in this chapter regarding all manner of things. Feel free to correct me in the comments and I'll do my best to either edit or regretfully inform you if it's unchangeable.)

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

The good thing about having a girlfriend, even one who’s possessive and definitely feeling insecure after Alex’s wavering loyalty in the Frankie-Jonas standoff, is that sex somehow solves everything.

Well.

Not everything.

But it makes her feel a hell of a lot better.

But it always has, hasn’t it? Even when things come crashing down later, for a moment she is entirely focused on something that feels _ good. _ She feels _ good, _ and she feels _ wanted. _

Frankie has been extra-attentive, too, which is nice— initiating contact seemingly whenever there’s enough of a lull for Alex to reach for her phone to kill time. Yes, that means her days for the next week are spent mostly in bed with Frankie, not doing the side gigs she should be doing, but Frankie has a plan for that.

*

“I think we’re doing some kind of advertising thing with them?” Frankie waves a hand dismissively. “Point is, I just need you to pass along a package, just some planning stuff, I dunno, I think it’s signed forms or something. They’ll pay for the delivery.”

*

The payment is $15. For a bike ride that's five miles absolute _tops_, with one brown envelope. That’s the first weird part. The second weird part is that the company she’s dropping the envelope at is a fuckin' Beemer dealership. She has to leave her bike outside, but when there’s a parking lot that’s half BMWs she doubts anyone would be interested in a beat-up seven-speed cruiser. The third weird part is the look she gets from the guy she delivers it to. Usually she’d just get like an uninterested nod and some cash, but this guy is actively happy to see her, and Alex has to assume whatever deal Frankie’s company made, this guy thinks he got the better end of it.

*

It’s not a one-time occurrence. “Baby, I’ve got a job for you,” becomes Alex’s wake-up call. And it’s a lot easier to be a bike messenger when she’s got someone personally setting up jobs for her instead of having to hope for some app to put it together.

It doesn’t take long for her to feel content. Even if there’s that guilt, that hurt eating away at her that she did something wrong with Jonas. That she messed it up somehow. She chose a side, and it wasn’t him, and she hasn’t had the time to sit down and get her thoughts together enough to contact him.

*

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, five hours til her shift starts at the Island, and Alex is resting her cheek on Frankie’s stomach as they lay in bed watching Netflix. Alex’s phone buzzes, but it’s on Frankie’s side of the bed, so she doesn’t bother. But the moment reminds her of something, and…

Alex is twirling her finger in the drawstring of her girlfriend’s pants. “Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“Can I…” Alex chews at her cheek. This may be a huge mistake. “…What happened the other night?” A week and a half ago now.

She doesn’t need to clarify. The hand that had been playing with her hair stills. It’s another few seconds, then Frankie clicks pause, and sighs.

“How much do you know about Jonas, Alex?”

Alex rolls out of her girlfriend’s lap. “…A bit.” She’s a little uneasy with the question. This feels like taking sides again. “Enough that I trust him,” she adds, a little stronger.

Frankie snorts. “You trust him? Do you even know what he did before he moved here?”

_ Do _ _ you__? _ But it sounds like she does. Doubt, unease, is creeping up her spine as Alex props herself up. “I know he worked at a different bar— something to do with kings.” That crown tattoo. “Did community college. And he’s from North Valley.” Right, they went to high school together. “He said—” What had he said? “Said he was a bit of a douche in school. Is that what this is about?”

There’s a grim smile on Frankie’s lips as she shakes her head. “That’s an interesting way of putting it.”

Alex frowns. Just stop beating around the bush already. “God, you’re like him— talking about his past like it’s some Big Bad Secret, Christ.”

“Baby, he’s not a good guy.” Frankie almost sounds apologetic. “Like— like violent assault and battery, Alex. Like B&E and GTA. Like I should’ve been scared for my _ life _ when he snapped that night. Beat a kid half to death when he was still in high school, had to get dragged away by the cops. And from what I’ve heard he didn’t get much better after.”

That… doesn’t sound right. Alex shakes her head, slowly. “I feel like we’re thinking of two different people here, babe,” she attempts a laugh, but it comes out weak. “I mean, even if he was a shit kid, he’s definitely not like that now.” She really wishes she didn’t sound like she’s trying to convince herself.

“You sure about that?”

Alex sits up, turning her irritation on her girlfriend. “Yeah, actually. I am.” This isn’t fair. This is frustrating and not fair, that she has to defend him when she’s speaking from her gut instead of her head. She doesn’t have _ proof _ she can show, to back up her— no, wait, she does. _ She’s _ the proof. “He’s—” _ the most patient person I’ve ever met. _ “I’ve—” _ never felt safer. _ Alex shakes her head. “Look, things change.”

God, that look. Frankie is _ pitying _ her. “Baby…” What? “…You don’t need to make excuses for him. Sometimes we trust people we shouldn’t. It happens.”

“I’m not—”

“Alex, listen to yourself. _ He’s changed. He’s different with me. _ You know how you sound.”

It’s like a slap to the face. “…That’s not fair.”

“The truth hurts, hon. So does he.”

“You’re casting him like some kind of abusive asshole.”

“Alex, stop apologizing for him.”

“I’m not!” Her voice is too high, throat too tight, because this is… something else. “I don’t need to! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Never with her. Never with _ anyone. _

“Baby…” The pity. The absolute _pity_ in her tone.

Alex feels like _ she’s _ the one about to get violent. “Stop it.”

It’s a switch. Frankie knows her switch, and the hand tugging a fistful of hair, pulling herself to her senses, does it. Or almost does it, as Alex strains against it just long enough to force Frankie to pull harder, really grounding herself with the firm hold, before she gives in. “Shhhh…” A hand is stroking over her cheek, and Alex feels like she’s overheating. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe. I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’m scared for you, baby. I care.”

There are too many thoughts and too many signals firing off in her head. The words feel objectively wrong, but Alex is already frustrated by an argument she knows she can’t win, because Frankie will claim Jonas is manipulating her. That’s not what’s happening at all. But Frankie is only saying it because she’s worried for her, and—

God, there’s too much. She needs to stop thinking. It’s better that way. When things are going wrong, lose yourself. So she pulls harder against Frankie’s grip, reaches for her girlfriend’s chin, and she’s kissing her as much to stop listening to her bullshit as to get that sweet sweet oxytocin.

*

Hot Jonas  
  
Hey  
  
Message sent to invalid destination. Please check your number and try again

* * *

Two days after the confrontation with Frankie, and he’s still lamenting over events he could have avoided. Could have changed. Could have done, should have done, would have done. But that’s just his nature. It always has been, ever since she died.

_ Left. _

_ Right. _

_ Left. _

_ Left. _

_ Upper jab. _

It isn’t enough just to be hitting something, even though that usually helps. Jonas has a lot of pent up aggression. That might be an understatement. Scratch that, it _ is _ an understatement, and he knows it is. What the hell had he been thinking? Damn near assaulting Frankie (she deserved it), leaving Alex (she hadn’t deserved it), and then skipping the rest of his shift. Of course Daniel understood. He’d been one of the only people to actually learn about Jonas’s past… transgressions. And then the guy had still kept him around. That was something he didn’t understand, either. Why people kept talking to him when he was walking around with so much to hide.

“Yo, Jonas? You okay?” Theo’s talking over the din of his blows, her freckled face scrunched up in concern. “I know you’re a bit of a gym rat, but this seems… like a lot.”

She’s right. This is the most time he’s spent wailing on a bag since senior year of high school. “Some shit happened. It’s fine.”

“If you’re calling it shit, I wouldn’t call it fine. Did you get caught up with the police again? ‘Cause I said-”

“No! No, Jesus Christ, I didn’t get arrested.” He has to stop so that he can actually hear her, huffing with exertion while taking off his gloves. Even with them on, Jonas has still formed bruises and broken skin on his knuckles, the blood smeared and scabbing. Theo winces in sympathy.

“Looks like it was something pretty bad then. You never went this hard unless you thought you fucked up.”

He manages a kind of chuckle, “Yeah, well, you could call it some form of self punishment I guess.”

“Need to walk and talk?”

Jonas only nods. That might be better than nothing.

*

Another few days, still no texts from Alex. She hasn’t shown up at the Kanaloa, either, which worries him more than he’s willing to admit. His mind urges him to check up on her, to go to the apartment and see what’s happening, but that would be over before it even began. Frankie’s turf now. The thought makes him wince. _ Alex _ is Frankie’s turf now. He should just stop worrying. He needs to convince himself to stop worrying. There’s nothing he can do about it; the girl walked right into the web, and now she’s reaping what she’s sown. Can’t feel guilty for something that couldn’t be stopped.

Jonas knows that’s a load of bullshit. He still tries.

*

A week and a half. No texts, no calls, no randomly popping up at his workplace, and no other patrons sent over from the Island. Jonas is laid up in bed at three in the afternoon with nothing to do, fiddling with the ring around his neck, and hovering over the send button of a message to Alex. What can he even say? Don’t trust Frankie, don’t trust him, don’t trust anyone? No. No, he’d sound like a paranoid fucking mess, and possessive at that. But he can’t exactly be subtle, either, not after that whole standoff at the bar. The fact that it seems like they’ve both been ignoring each other doesn’t make it any better. Are they ignoring each other? He doesn’t know. They’ve been doing something, thinking about other things, while life goes on around them.

Theo had told him to go ahead and contact her. But then again, Theo had experience with the people he used to call friends.

Daniel had told him to give it time. Even if he wasn’t sure what entirely had happened, the old man was always willing to give advice when people asked. It was what he did best.

Well. He’d given it time, technically, and Alex hadn’t reached out… Ugh. Jonas is overcomplicating this. He should just— just get to the point, say what he needs to say, be done with it. Letting the whole thing simmer and fester can hardly make anything better. Why would it? She might think _ he’s _ the one ignoring _ her, _ from how he’d left. Just stomped off into the night like some reckless storm. That’s terrible. He’s terrible. Everything is terrible. Just hit send. Hit send. Hit—

Alex  
  
Look. I know you probably don’t wanna talk, and I know whatever Frankie’s been telling you hasn’t been good, but I just- I wanted to apologize, I guess? For everything. For leaving like that. She pissed me off, and I was gonna do something really fucking stupid in the middle of it all…  
  
Yeah.   
  
I’m sorry, Alex. I’m really fucking sorry.

-

The text is from an unknown number. Which is weird, ‘cause Alex is pretty sure it’s from Jonas ‘cause she doesn’t know who the hell else would send a message like that. It kinda hurts though. Not just the message, not just the apology. That he’d tried so hard to cut off contact.

Alex stares at it for a long time. The way she figures it is this: he blocked her. Somehow. Made it so her texts bounced. Then picked up a burner, maybe, or some other way to send his apology. Some kind of bittersweet last message. Which is stupid, ‘cause they still live really close, they’re bound to run into each other at some point. Even if they never had before. And haven’t since that night. …Maybe he’s avoiding her. This has to be his goodbye.

What a shitty way to say goodbye.

818-5891  
  
This isn’t over, you know that, right?  
  
Wait that’  
  
S not a threat that came out wrong  
  
I mean, if you want it to be over it can be  
  
But also- you’re not getting out of this until I’m dead buddy, I need <strike>you</strike> your wings.

It’s a shitty joke. She doesn’t know what else to say. Fuck. She pushes her head into her pillow, taking a deep breath. For once Frankie isn’t around. Which makes it a hell of a lot easier.

818-5891  
  
That means I forgive you, dumbass  
  
Now unblock my number

It’s not like she has a great history of picking the right people to forgive. Her gut has been wrong on more than one occasion. She’ll still go with her heart over her head nine times out of ten.

_ He’s a dangerous man, _ Frankie’s voice is echoing in her head, that patronizing tone that Alex can’t stand when they’re talking about serious things. Fuck that. She’s known plenty of dangerous people. Maybe not— maybe not beating someone to a pulp dangerous, but…

Guilt floods Alex’s system because the wrong thoughts are running through her mind. Instead of fear, instead of wariness, she’s just remembering seeing him at the warehouse, the sound of fists against bag, the look of lean muscle and disciplined strikes, even when he was throwing her to the ground— and the way he pulled back as soon as he recognized her. He doesn’t hurt people. He just doesn’t. He doesn’t hurt _ her. _ Jesus— why is she more interested in seeing him go fuckin’ HAM than shaming him for having done it? That’s pretty fucked. That’s _really_ fucked, even for her. That’s the kind of thought she doesn’t need to share with anyone.

Danger is her middle name. One of many. Sure, maybe her only… well, they kind of were arrests, weren’t they? Maybe they were just drunk and disorderlies, trespassing, useless shit that never made it past a slap on the wrist or a bit of community service. But _ she’s _ the devil in this relationship. She’s already established that. Precedent has been set. It’s not like her past is spotless. Maybe not violence, but… she _ has _ killed someone, after all.

The numbers burn on her wrist.

Doubt is creeping around her, and she kind of wishes she was under some kind of influence right now to lessen the inevitable harsh blow when he doesn’t respond.

…Yeah, no, she can’t do this sober. She can’t do this now. This was a bad idea, she should’ve thought this out.

Alex turns off her phone.

Can’t get ghosted if there’s no one to ghost. Sure. That… that makes sense. (_No, it doesn’t._) Yeah, okay, so if she doesn’t check then she can assume he’s laughing at her shit joke, that he forgives her just as much, that all is well and mended and not a problem anymore. (_Not how that works, Alex._) Sure. Fine. Blissful ignorance. She just needs to do something else for a bit, kill time until work. She needs to… fuckin’… wash her hair. That’ll work.

-

Alex  
  
Unblock your number?  
  
Alex, I never blocked you. You just never texted me. Ever. Figured you didn’t want to talk.  
  
Or, not anymore, I guess.

That’s… odd. Why would she think he blocked her number? He still has her contact, he just hadn’t been doing anything with it, waiting to see if Alex would text first. He hadn’t wanted to push her in case something else was causing some instability. But it doesn’t seem that way from her tone. She’d definitely thought Jonas was avoiding her.

Alex  
  
Wait, you still have my contact, how could I have blocked you if it’s still there?

There’s a lull to his messages, trying to consider his words rather than just type up explanations. He’s the guilty one in all of this. Not her. Alex hadn’t been the one to lose her cool over some stupid conversation.

Alex  
  
Nevermind.  
  
Main point is that I fucked up.  
  
Bad.

-

The shower does not help as much as Alex had hoped. Her mind… wanders. And even if she’s still sore from the first session of the day with Frankie, she’s thinking of those goddamned hands of his. But it’s more than that. She’s thinking of the gym, yes, but she’s also thinking of the hand on that gap of skin as they danced, of the firm grip and delicate maneuvering as he plucked shards of glass from her foot, of the ghosting touch over her tattoo—

_ I will become what I deserve. _

She’s a horrible girlfriend. She’s a horrible _ friend. _She’s just… a bad person in general. She’s a mess. It’s not just the thoughts running through her head, but the emotions that come along with them.

There’s too much need in her. Needy, desperate, pathetic. Her heart is too open, too eager to latch on, and now - apparently - too flighty. It’s emotional infidelity is what it is. She can’t have a girlfriend and think about someone else like— like _ that_. Especially someone who only thinks of her as a friend. It’s not fair to Jonas to have ulterior motives, even if she hasn’t thought of them before. And it’s not fair to Frankie to let her heart wander, to side with someone else. Too many decisions from her gut, not enough from her head.

Okay, so time to think with her head, then.

Jonas.

Jonas is a criminal, seems to be confirming Frankie’s story, and if it’s as bad as she says it’s more than a one-time incident. Frankie said Alex would get hurt. How much of her attachment is sheer masochism? How much is her _ wanting _ to be hurt? It’s not like she hasn’t done things just for the thrill of the risk before.

But before she knew any of that, he was something else. Hell, when they’d first met she thought he was a clean-cut Good Christian Boy. It hadn’t been about the risk_ then. _

But would it be, now? And if so, that wouldn’t be fair to him, would it? To be seen as the dog on a leash. Not fair at all.

Aside from all of that; he doesn’t like her. Not like _ that_, anyway. And lusting after a friend is — no, not lusting, she lusts after plenty of people. Whatever it is she feels for him— it’s bad news bears. That’s a layer of deception she’s dealt with before, and it just hurts. Back to this. She just wants to get hurt. Physically, emotionally, mentally — different ways for different reasons, some better than others. Penance.

And then on the other hand: Frankie.

Alex isn’t being fair to Frankie. Frankie _ cares, _ Frankie is helping her so much, and Alex lets herself think of other people? She needs to be better than that. She needs to be faithful, and she needs to be supportive, and she shouldn’t be siding with a man who was about to throw hands with her girlfriend. She should be grateful. Frankie is the best thing to happen to her in a while. With her help, Alex is being made to eat more than one meal a day, and has the motivation to go do her goddamn laundry, and thanks to Frankie she has a regular run of courier jobs that are making her decent money without the stress of searching for gigs. She should trust her girlfriend.

Right. _ Use your head, Alex. _

He probably won’t even text back anyway. Then it won’t even be an issue.

*

…He texted back.

As soon as she turned on her phone - after a shower that took way too long, to the point that her fingertips were all shriveled and pruney - there it was.

818-5891  
  
Main point is that I fucked up.  
  
Bad.

Shit. Shit shit shit, and there her heart goes, trying to forget the whole debate she’d just had. _ Head not heart, Alex, for once in your life. _ Right. She’d thought about this. Her texts are written and rewritten, typed and deleted, but she gets it all out eventually.

818-5891  
  
I forgive you, Jonas. I do.  
  
But I think maybe for now it’s better if we don’t talk.  
  
I still <strike> like you </strike> <strike> want to be your friend </strike> support you 100%.  
  
You’re a good person.  
  
I just need to be a good girlfriend for once, yknow?  
  
I’m really really trying to be better.  
  
And Frankie wouldn’t be happy for me to be <strike> having feelings </strike> being friends with you.  
  
And she’s important to me.

It’s the right choice. She’s… pretty sure it’s the right choice. …God, she doesn’t know. Nothing feels like the _ right _ choice. They all feel wrong. Fuck. She needs a hug.

-

The fact that she waits an hour to respond already has him on edge, and with what she says, that slight panic turns into resignation. Jonas can’t bring himself to just jump out of the gate with an agreement, but he knows if he refuses it might just be worse in the long run. That inevitable feeling of abandonment is coming back. That isn’t fair to her. He’s known Alex for a while now, sure, but— she can’t just be his lifeline for everything. He knows that. He thinks he knows that.

It hurts more than he thinks, because it takes him a minute to realize he’s tearing up. And for a stupid reason, no less. It isn’t going to be forever. God, it might be. Fuck. Okay. Shit. He can’t handle this right now. Jonas could’ve handled rejection, that could be blamed on Frankie and her tactics, but this… this isn’t wholly manipulative. It’s still there, a definite undertone, but Alex is still thinking for herself. Just like she always will.

So he lays there for a few minutes. Tries to come up with something that doesn’t sound so fucking desperate. Because she isn’t his, she never was his, and now she’s someone else’s.

Alex isn’t just in Frankie’s turf anymore. She’s _ Frankie’s. _

Alex  
  
Yeah.  
  
It’d be safer for you.  
  
Just… Think about why you’re doing it. Who you’re doing it for. Deciding between two people you enjoy being around just because someone told you to is a bit

-

That - that self-deprecating ominousness - feels like the Jonas she thought she knew. Not the one Frankie seems so convinced of. It’s a natural reaction, the small quirk to her lips as she starts typing some snarky response.

<strike> _ Bold of you to assume I enjoy bei _ </strike>

And then the rest of his messages come.

-

Alex  
  
Nevermind. Don’t have a horse in that race.  
  
Sorry.

Jonas feels like he’s going to be apologizing forever. There’s a lump in his throat when he types the next words.

Alex  
  
Frankie is lucky to have a girl like you, Alex.

-

Her previous words sit unsent as she reads his last message over again. And then again.

Has anyone ever said that before? Ever? It feels like she’s always the one making jokes like that, but has anyone ever said it sincerely?

818-5891  
  
Look, Jonas

Alex is having feelings. That can’t be good.

818-5891  
  
You are so good. You are. I don’t think you believe it but you are.  
  
Your past is  
  
Whatever. None of my business.  
  
I like you a lot, angel.  
  
<strike>And maybe one day things will</strike>

…will what? It feels too much like she’s lining up a rebound. Like she’s setting up a backup relationship. And that-

818-5891  
  
It’s not fair to you.  
  
<strike>I can’t</strike>

She deletes the words. _ I can’t just be friends with you. _Not now, anyway. There’s too much attached to him. He’s too important. But beyond all of that — it feels like cheating. Not cheating on Frankie - though, God, that too - but cheating at… at life. Cheating him. A lie by omission.

Is there any reason _ not _ to say that, then? If she doesn’t, she’s just maintaining the lie. He should know. God, she doesn’t want him to know. She wants to hedge her bets, to keep that little safety net just in case. She doesn’t want to be the friend catching feelings and ruining everything.

Two months, maybe a little more. It’s nothing in the grand scheme of things. Better to come clean. To let him know it’s not that she doesn’t like him, but that she likes him too much. Might as well, right? If she’s trying to be better, honesty feels like a good start.

818-5891  
  
I just can’t be friends.  
  
Not with you.

It’s a typo she’ll regret when she finally realizes she made it.

-

How does he respond to _ that? _ Of all the things she could say, at any time, she says— What can he even expect anymore? They all leave when they find out. Everyone. The only two people that even bothered to stay were his lawyer and his dad. He barely talks to them half the time. Jonas feels it when he chokes, but his mind isn’t properly registering things anymore. This couldn’t have been something impulsive. (That’s her middle name.) This was something a long time coming. (Inevitable. Inescapable.) The only mistake he’d made was not seeing it sooner. Not pushing Alex out like he had with every other person ever since he’d left the crew. It hurts. Everything hurts. She’s _ gone. _

Jonas turns off his phone. Stares at the blank screen. He wants to throw it across the room, and not even because he’s angry, but because he’s just… He doesn’t even know. Instead, it drops onto the bed, the soft thud seeming to echo in the silence. It could just be chalked up to Frankie. But that isn’t at all what he thinks of the situation. His eyes sting when he forces himself up, leaving the phone where it’s laying, moving to get away as quickly as possible. Not friends. Not anybody. Just another stranger on the street.

He needs a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the angst, my friends. These two need hugs. Feel free to send your love to these two fucked up dumbasses. I love them so much.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Days pass, no response. Not even a check in. He expected this, and life goes on. Of course Daniel notices how distracted he is, Theo does— hell, even his dad does, and that’s just through phone calls. None of them know why. His father doesn’t even know about Alex, and neither does Theo, and Daniel takes it as the fight putting a little more guilt on his shoulders. And it had. But not as much as her leaving. Alex was this bright, bombastic light, and without her everything feels dulled down. Like the world just lost its color. Jonas keeps thinking back to the night it all started changing, started breaking apart, even if in the end they’d pieced it back together. For a little while.

_ The rest of the world just hates fun. _

“Yeah, Al.” Jonas mutters the words into empty space, directed at no one, as he walks toward his bike. Post-work rides have become a regular practice since she’d left. It doesn’t make him feel any better, but it gets his mind off of other things, onto the road. Onto something he’s more used to than people. It’s an endless thing, an odd kind of comfort, and it’s always there. He can feel it through the thrum of the engine, the slow drift into a turn, skidding to a stop and scuffing up the only pair of boots he owns even further. Silence is all consuming, but he’s okay with that. It leaves Jonas breathing room.

On more than one of these nights, he’s found himself screaming at nothing in the middle of nowhere. That was okay, too.

* * *

It kinda hurt when he didn’t respond. Scratch that, it hurt _ a lot_, but she wasn’t allowed to complain, because she did this to herself. A necessary evil, maybe. 

Things are easier when Frankie’s around. She feels like she made the right choice because, God; Frankie is the perfect distraction, and she was thrilled when Alex mumbled her decision. Maybe too thrilled, really, ‘cause Alex was - is - still hurting over it, and some sympathy would’ve been nice. 

Frankie is great, yes. But when she isn’t around… It’s a tug of war between stubborn self-assuredness and complete and utter doubt. 

It was in one of these internal struggles that she made what felt, at the time, like a huge mistake of rereading their texts. That was when she spotted the typo. 

“Fuck.” 

_ I _ **_just can’t_**_ be_ _ friends. I _ **_can’t just_**_ be_ _ friends. _ They’re so close, she must’ve missed it, but how did she fuck that up?

Which is why, now, after being alone for a few hours in a row, and not having Frankie to distract her, Alex is waiting. At the Kanaloa. Because this feels like an apology that should be made in person. Or, maybe it’s because too much of her couldn’t resist. She’s never been great at delayed gratification. She’s never been great at telling herself no, when it comes down to it. And now, hidden under that easy smile to the day shift guy, she’s a mess of nerves. But the Kanaloa is familiar - it’s not like she didn’t come here over and over again when they were talking regularly. Sitting at the bar, grinning at Jonas, killing time and joking around. It’s a comfortable place. Even if her fingers are scratching at the print on her pint glass, fidgeting, going over the flood of words trying to straighten themselves out into sentences in her mind. 

<strike> _ I’m so sorry- _ </strike>

<strike> _ I never meant that- _ </strike>

<strike> _ It’s complicated- _ </strike>

<strike> _ I could never- _ </strike>

_ I miss you. I miss you so much, Jesus fucking Christ. _

Part of her is distantly aware that she’s not going to be able to stop. That this is her deciding she’s somehow okay with emotional infidelity— which feels morally wrong, but she’s used to guilt. She’s not a cheater. Been accused of it before, but clumsily kissing someone in a drunken haze and caring about them are two different things. To her, anyway. Kissing a friend or a stranger is— nothing. It’s fine. She did it all the time in college, anyway. Friends kissed each other. It happened. Hell, she’d even kissed Jonas. In a… friendly way. 

Fuck. 

“Alex?”

She’s pulled out of her tangled train wreck of thought by a familiar voice, blinking back to the present and turning. “Logan! Hi! I didn’t know you knew this place.” He’s a regular on her routes for Frankie. Nice guy. Always offers her a snack and a drink before she heads off again. 

“Yeah, I…” He trails off with a shrug. “Kinda here for work, actually.” 

Work? Alex raises an incredulous eyebrow. “For… the auto shop?”

“Not—” Logan is half-smiling, looking a little sheepish. “Side gig, I guess. Sorta for a friend of a friend.” 

“Huh.” There’s a moment of pause. “Are you meeting someone?”

He glances around the bar. “Should be. A little early, I guess.” 

Alex nods. Same, same. “So what’s the side gig?”

His eyes flick over her, like he’s trying to figure out how much she’ll understand of whatever industry jargon he’s about to spout, looking almost amused before he just shakes his head. “Actually, think you can point me to the bathroom?” 

She snorts incredulously. “Okay, I mean sure, just ‘cause I don’t have a car doesn’t— well, yeah, I guess it does, I’m shit at cars.” Alex gives him that crooked grin before gesturing for the hall. “Don’t hurt yourself,” she jokes. 

Logan isn’t even gone long enough for her to sink back into the swamp of unpleasant thought before the back door opens and Alex’s heart catches for a second. 

Jonas looks… tired. Kind of grim. It takes a second for him to see her, and for her to figure out what the hell she’s doing, but by the time he’s at the edge of the bar it’s too late, because she’s already surging toward him. It’s not a gentle impact, leaving her a bit winded, but she doesn’t care because she’s been really _ really _ wanting to do this for too long now. Her hands dig into his back, clutching at the fabric there, cheek pressed against his chest, catching her breath in a wave of smoke and spice and wood. “I— um.” Her brain is slowly realizing her actions. “I wanted to apologize.” It would be easier if she wasn’t trying to speak into his shirt, but she doesn’t want to pull away right this second. 

-

When he trudges into work on Wednesday, he doesn’t expect it to be any different. The bar is almost unusually quiet, though it doesn’t really perturb him as he glances around the place— until he notices bright blue hair by the bar. At first, Jonas wants to call it a fever dream, some illusion of what he wants (what he needs, even if he’ll never admit it), but then she comes running at him and he has to back up two paces with her impact. It’s Alex. But that… How? _ Why? _ What’s the point? 

This can’t be real. It can’t be. This is some dream he’s going to wake up from in the morning, and he’s going to go through the same motions, do the same things, try to _ take joy in the day-to-day. _ Whatever Alex had said before everything went wrong. Before she left. Before he started midnight rides and too much coffee.

She’s trying to apologize, and Jonas doesn’t even care, just wraps his arms around her shoulders and tugs her as close as possible. Because if this is a dream, and he’s going to wake up, then he damn well better make the most of this. So he buries his face into her hair and just breathes.

-

Jesus this is why tall people are such good blankets; it’s the _ reach_. She’s completely wrapped up in him. But more importantly, _ he’s hugging back. _ Her words are mumbled into his shirt, and she’s trying not to sound like an idiot, but she’s not so great at that at the moment. “I didn’t realize— it was a stupid typo and I didn’t mean— I mean, I meant something else, but—” She can’t say that now. That’s… that’s a lot harder to say in person. And maybe— maybe she _ can _ just be friends. Maybe. 

_ Liar. You’re just making this worse for yourself. _

Fuck. No. She can try. “I swear to god, angel, I didn’t mean it that way. You’re not— it’s not _ you_. I swear to god, Frankie’s just—” Alex shakes her head, but it’s almost like she’s burrowing into him. “She’s wrong about you, okay? I know that.” 

Okay. Okay, she should stop. She should stop hugging him. 

_ Stop hugging him, Alex. _

_ Seriously. You have a girlfriend. _

Comfort. This is comfort. She’s allowed to get comfort from someone else. She’s allowed to _ give _ comfort to someone else. And that feels like what she’s doing.

-

She’s talking, he isn’t really paying attention, but he can ask about it later. This is going to raise some questions with people, but it doesn’t matter. In the grand scheme of things, nothing matters, even if he shouldn’t be thinking about things like that right now. Jonas can’t help the shuddering, forlorn kind of sigh that comes out of him. Because no one comes back. _ No one comes back, _ and here she is, just… just standing with him. Being here. It shouldn’t be real.

Jonas doesn’t pull his head back up until he’s sure Alex is finished, and his eyes look more bloodshot than they should, dark circles rimming edges of the skin around them. Definitely staying up later than he probably should be. One of his hands moves to gingerly stroke a thumb over her cheek, and pull her face back in the process, because it’s buried in his chest and he wants to _ see _ her. To verify that this is something. That this is Alex, and she’s here, and she’s not leaving again. 

-

Okay, that’s— that’s not fair. Her mind immediately zips back weeks ago, his hand under her chin, face to face in his bed. Alex manages a nervous smile. “You’re doing the thing, Jonas.” It would be a joke, and might pass as one, still. She’s not happy about it, but she untangles her arms from around him to pull his hand away. “You know me. If you keep doing that…” _ If you keep talking like that I’m gonna want to kiss you again. _ Fuck. She’s a fucking idiot. What was she thinking, anyway? 

Shaking her head, Alex takes a step back, still holding onto his wrist. “We’ve already established over and over again you’re this fuckin’ heavenly being, angel, and I would in an instant.” She’s trying to joke. She’s almost got it, even if it’s unavoidably as apologetic as it is self-deprecating. “But girlfriend.”

Fickle. That’s the word. Whoever’s closest. With Jonas this close - and fuck, he still is, she takes another half step back - it’s easy to forget how much she cares about Frankie. And when Frankie’s there, so intent on keeping her occupied, she barely has a second to think, let alone let her mind wander to Jonas. And when they were in the same room… that had been the worst. And having him make the decision for her hadn’t been as much of a relief as it should’ve been. 

-

Right, right social mores are still a thing. Why do social mores have to be a thing? Jonas is still trying to piece together exactly what Alex had been saying, something about apologizing and not meaning what she said, but it’s all kind of fuzzy. He’s been more focused on her actual presence than her words. But he lets her go when she moves, rubbing the crown on the nape of his neck out of habit. What can he even say? What should he start with? Is there even a place to start?

Ugh. Overthinking. Then again, he overthinks everything, and that’s something she should be used to by now. Though Jonas waits on her to finish, managing a tired smile at her half joke, leaning on the edge of the bar until the conversation is over. Day shift hasn’t left yet. And people never seem to mind waiting a while; they can just call him if they really want something. 

When he does finally speak, his voice sounds worse off than before. Probably from the screaming and lack of actual, human conversation outside of work. “Yeah.”

-

There’s a moment when her brows draw together, ‘cause he doesn’t sound so good. He doesn’t _ look _ so good, either. She still hasn’t let go of him. Her thumb slides up over the heel of his palm, pressing into his hand in some attempt at comfort. She’s relieved, but not relieved enough to drop back into their usual banter. Even if she wants to. To get back some of that casual normalcy they had. 

“Look, I… I know I’m usually with Frankie, but…” Wow, okay, that would be kinda breaking her girlfriend’s trust. But… it’s really hard to think of her with Jonas right here. “She’s - um. She’s usually gone - or I’m usually doing deliveries - like… like 1-5?” It feels illicit. “If you want to… you know. Talk.” Some part of her has the presence of mind to think it’s really fucking weird to have to schedule time to talk to friends when her girlfriend isn’t around. But it’s for Frankie’s peace of mind. She’s just being considerate. Right?

-

To talk. The last time he _ talk_-talked he was probably in therapy. Or at least, as far as talking about his problems went, he was definitely in some form of forced therapy or counseling. Jonas moves to wrap an arm around her again, head shaking just a bit. “I’ll be fine, Al. Just a few bad days in the grand scheme of things.” A whole lot of bad days in the grand scheme of things. A whole lot of bad nights. Jonas doesn’t mention that part. “Besides. You need those jobs to pay rent, right? Shouldn’t mess with time you need for yourself.”

It’s a bit of an excuse to make sure Alex thinks he’s alright. To make sure that she can talk about herself, rather than trying to comfort him, because that isn’t her job. His job is to keep her safe, as best he can. Her job is to just be there. Not to entertain him, though she did that regularly with some fairly stupid antics, but to make sure he doesn’t become the jaded mess that he currently is. To soften him up. God, Frankie was right. 

-

This is normal human contact. Normal. Fine. 

_ Get your shit together, Alex. _ ** _Girlfriend._ **

She’s not a fucking teenager. She can keep her fucking head around a cute guy. Still, her eyes are wandering away to resist the temptation, and she’s shaking her head. “I don’t mean— Christ, Jonas, just text me some time. But… but in _ that _ time, I guess.” The rest of her statement is more to herself, a mumbled, “Also, I need to…” as her eyes catch on Logan coming out of the bathroom on the other side of Jonas. 

It’s when he starts to head in their direction, eyes fixed on Jonas, mouth a grim line, that her eyebrows start to raise. So… So is that what his business is? Her gaze flicks back to Jonas, wondering what side hustle he’s running, when Logan is close enough for his voice to reach them. “Jonas. We need to talk.”

Oh. Okay. This feels like… This feels like something she shouldn’t be here for. Still, she hesitates, even though she objectively knows she should be pulling out of his hold. 

-

He knows that voice. Which is weird, considering he hasn’t heard it in years, but that’s nothing new. Jonas untangles himself from Alex, because - due to the tone - this sounds like some kind of warning. “What the hell— What do you mean we need to talk?” There he goes again. Back on the defensive. 

But Jonas’s ex has just appeared over his shoulder, in the middle of his bar, while he’s trying to convince himself that someone finally wants to stay. To say this is souring his mood would be an understatement. Though everything clicks into place rather quickly once he takes in the other man’s stature, the way he’s speaking, the look on his face. He’s seen it before. This isn’t a good news face.

-

They know each other. Okay. And Jonas isn’t happy about it. So… this is like Frankie all over again? It makes sense, in a roundabout way; the jobs Alex has been doing are for Frankie, after all. Logan shoots a look first at her - something wary and unsure - before looking to Jonas again with that tight-jawed annoyance. 

Alex’s mouth opens in a cautious mumble. “I… I’m just gonna…” This feels like something she isn’t meant to be part of. “I’ll, um, see you around Jonas. Logan.” 

She gets the head nod from Logan, and that’s enough of a dismissal, combined with the look he’s giving Jonas, for her to get heading out. With another look at Jonas she adds, “You know how to find me.”

-

Jonas’s eyebrows furrow for a minute as he registers her words, and then his eyes pull open wider. “You know him?” His first sentence is directed toward Alex, more surprise than anything, before— “You _ know her? _” His tone is much more accusing when it’s turned on Logan. Not anger, not yet, but it’s getting there. From what he can remember, he hasn’t mentioned his ex at all to Alex, so unless Frankie revealed a whole lot more…

Oh God. Alex would know Logan through Frankie. Frankie knew Logan through their crew. That means either his blue-haired idiot has gotten herself involved, or she still doesn’t know about it. But he still needs more answers.

-

“Yeah, we—” But Logan is looking annoyed at _ her _ now, so Alex gives a half wave and dips. He can explain it. 

“I’ve been asked to be the bearer of shitty shitty tidings.” Logan speaks up, once Alex is out the front door. His tone is wry and maybe a little bitter. “Mike says step off Frankie. She’s sensitive.” He’s almost rolling his eyes. “And it’ll be easier for everyone if you just… let sleeping dogs lie.” 

-

So this is a business meeting. Or— not really a meeting, just a whole bunch of threats strung together and delivered by someone he doesn’t particularly want to see. Jonas has to resist the urge to snort. Step off Frankie? “I already have, in case you didn’t notice. And I _ would’ve _ let it go-” he picks himself up from off of the bar where he’d been leaning, arms crossed over his chest, “-if she hadn’t gotten Alex in on this.”

-

Logan looks less than thrilled to be delivering the message, and he actually _ is _ rolling his eyes now, “I dunno, man, she’s—”

-

“I can handle you guys just walking around. Would’ve just avoided you. But Alex? That won’t fly. I mean— Does she even know?”

Either she knows and she doesn’t care, or she doesn’t know and has no idea what’s happening. If Alex knows, he’s going to talk her out of it. She shouldn’t make the same mistakes he did. That would be disastrous. And make him even more guilty, because this is his old crew.

-

A look of gradual realization is dawning on Logan’s face. “Oh. Are you— that would make sense, then.” He nods slowly. “Yeah, Frankie, she’s… not happy about you.” He conveniently ignores Jonas’s question. 

-

Jonas glowers at Logan, and takes a step forward. It’s not so much an intimidation tactic as it is just trying to figure out what his motive is. “Does she _ know_, Logan? Yes or no question. Answer it. Now.”

-

Brows are raised as Jonas steps forward, but he doesn’t look particularly threatened. A little amused, maybe. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, and he appreciates the view. “I’d guess not. Frankie likes her.” His eyes skate off to the side for a second before looking back to Jonas, evaluating, like he’s about to say something else. Instead, he shakes his head. “Just take a step back, Jo. You don’t want to get involved in this. They’ve upped their game since North Valley.”

-

“Logan, since when do I ever just take a step back?” He’s pushing his luck a bit, but his voice has dropped to less of an accusatory tone, more so exasperated. This is just great. Alex is ignorant, he’s being told to just not get involved - which only makes him want to investigate further - and he still has a shift to finish. To _ start. _ Jonas sighs to himself, one hand moving up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Seriously. I would have. You guys have your own goals, this isn’t my game anymore.”

-

Logan raises an eyebrow at the ‘stepping back’ comment. There’s a glaringly obvious example staring them both in the face. 

He rolls his eyes again. “_Seriously._” The language mirrors Jonas, but it’s not mocking, just emphatic. “You left for a reason.” And Logan had been one of the few to respect that reason. “Keep to your bar, to your business, and don’t mess with us and ours. Seriously, Frankie will get back in line eventually and Mike will stop enforcing her shit. For now, stay out of her way and for God’s sake, if you care about Alex at all you’ll keep her in the dark, too. Don’t get her involved in this. Things are better if she doesn’t know, you know that.” If she knows, she’s complicit. If she doesn’t… plausible deniability. 

-

“Yeah, wasn’t exactly planning on telling her every single thing you guys decide to do. But it’s—” It makes him feel guilty if he doesn’t let her know. “It’s gonna be on my mind for a bit. You know how I am.” How he was. Jonas has changed a bit since their half-assed gang - since he decided to try and at least carve out a better life for himself - but everything always seems to bite him in the goddamn ass. His past, the people he tries to look out for— hell, he’s even fucked himself over before. Which is a pretty big feat. 

-

The tough facade Logan had had at first is almost completely melted away. From both of them. Neither of them really want to be having this conversation. Logan sighs, deflating a bit. “Yeah. I know. Shit, Jo, you need to get out of your head. The hell do you do for fun?” 

-

“Why does everyone keep telling me that?” Uhm. What _ does _ he do for fun, anyways? The last time he’d actually done something that could be considered a pastime was dancing with Alex. And that was… what, a month ago now? More. Two? Jesus. Jonas winces a bit at the words, and his response. “…Nothing?”

-

Logan cracks a wry smile. “That’d be why, probably.” He huffs a laugh. “I mean, I’d invite you to go for a beer, but that feels like a conflict of interest. Or at the very least I’d get fuckin’ ripped on by the rest of the crew.” The tension that had started the whole conversation is gone. Just two old friends - okay, more than friends - catching up. In a way. A very weird way. Logan laughs again. “Fuck, man, not even Grindr?” he sounds incredulous. 

-

He wants to snort at the comment, because really? “Not my game. Though yeah, you’d probably get fucking grilled by everyone if you suddenly decided to shoot the breeze with me. Even if neither of us really want to be talking about the whole thing.” Jonas isn’t smiling just yet, but there’s a slight upturn to his lips, a hint that Logan undoubtedly remembers well. He’s too tired, too drained to really be doing well right now. Especially in the emotional department.

-

‘Not his game.’ Logan’s smile slips to the verge of a smirk. It never really was, was it? More of a _ pine in silence and eventually get up the nerve to ask someone out _ kinda guy. He shakes his head, once more amused by something in his mind. “Yeah. Yeah, no, I think I’ve done my due diligence. You got the message, right? My job here is done.” He claps a hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “Wish we coulda been meeting in better circumstances.” It’s sincere enough, and his grip is more reassuring than anything else. “When you were single,” he adds. “And less of a softie.” 

-

Jonas raises an eyebrow at the last comment, though he doesn’t shrug off Logan’s hand. It’s familiar, and he’s no longer a threat, so it isn’t as if he needs to get up and arms about a casual gesture. “I… am single? Last I checked.” Yup. Definitely single. Because he isn’t exactly looking for a relationship at the moment. Then again, when does he ever? “And I’m not a softie, so fuck off.” At least his tone is joking. 

-

An incredulous snort from Logan; “Yeah, right. Fuckin— _ tenderized, _ Jo.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “But you’re smart. Don’t cause drama. You never like it.” It’s not a warning so much as a reminder. And a parting remark. “Wait til Frankie gets her claws out of her before you make a move. Don’t let me see you around, okay?” 

-

Well, he’s right about one thing, at least; Jonas really doesn’t like drama. The other thing, though… That was odd. Right, sure— but odd. So he lets Logan walk off, out of the bar and back to the gang, unscathed and without a message back. No time to reply when he has to get back to work, and deal with everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love dumbasses who don't realize that they're basically already a thing.
> 
> No real notes to leave this chapter, I don't think… Or if there is anything I can't remember what it would've been 😅 Just hoping you enjoy, really, and having fun with Logan cause he's a fun character. Also I know we _theoretically_ could have dragged out the angst longer, but we're action-minded people at times xD
> 
> In other news, Blue Hair Red Jacket has been updating about once a week-ish as well, if you're up for a different type of Jonalex fic (the Jonas's mom lives AU). As always, thanks for reading! Feel free to drop a question or reaction in the comments ^^
> 
> -OWT


	17. Chapter 17

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/189141809495)

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Other than that conversation, Jonas hasn’t had any kind of territory conflict again. He’s laid off pressure (like there was even pressure to begin with, he was basically just ignoring them in the first place), and has started going about daily life again. With less of the anxiety that had come without a little bit of Alex. He shouldn’t be this attached, but they’ve gotten back into texting, and he just— he still can’t believe she’s still talking to him. After everything Frankie’s undoubtedly told her, after all the terrible things he’s done, she’s staying. Not because it’s an obligation, but because she likes him. She thinks he’s a good person. Which is why it’s going to suck when he ruins it all again.

Because he always does. No matter how hard he tries.

It’s around two on Saturday when he questions her about how they lost contact in the first place.

-

Sure, okay, she feels a little guilty. Not about texting Jonas - she’s just glad to have him to talk to again, to jibe him about setting him up, and to bug him about going out to do things - but she feels guilty that she’s kinda sorta sneaking around to do it. But Frankie isn’t exactly unlikely to glance at Alex’s phone when notifications come in, and that would be kinda damning.

Her phone is going off in her back pocket as Alex is crossing town for another delivery, swerving around those motherfuckers taking up the bike lane. She doesn’t have a watch or else she’d be checking it. Even if she’s late all the time in her day-to-day life, she’s kinda proud how quick she gets her jobs done. One of those little things she does well.

She’s only a few blocks from the auto repair place. It’s a regular stop once a week, another brown envelope. There are a few different types of deliveries she’s been running: envelopes - some padded, some flat - and backpacks. Weird choice, but apparently there’s some prototyping happening, and… whatever. It’s not like she cares. They’re zip-tied shut, so she can’t and isn’t gonna go snooping. And the pay is good, so she’s not complaining. The annoying part is switching from one to the other, ‘cause the envelopes usually need their own bag to be carried in, and biking with two backpacks can be a pain. But Alex makes do.

Not-quite-skidding to a stop in the back of the shop, Alex raises a hand to the first mechanic she sees, who whistles short and sharp. She hops off her bike, pulling her backpack off a shoulder, grabbing the envelope out of it before sliding her phone from her pocket. Jonas. She grins automatically, swiping it open.

“Lemme guess— your side boy?”

Alex glances up. Logan is smirking, and it’s good-natured and a lot less irritated than the last time she saw him, and she snorts in response. “Nah. Some dork who works at a bar.”

He grins back. “Isn’t that what I said?”

Alex chokes on her laugh. “God, don’t let Frankie hear you. She’d kill me.”

He holds his hand out for the envelope and Alex hands it over. “So how do you two know each other?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking that?”

“He’s my ex.”

That’s thrown her for a loop. Her surprise is obvious, and Logan laughs as she looks him over with narrowed eyes. “Huh. So _ you’re _ his type.”

“Or I was however many years ago, I guess.”

It’s easy to talk to him. “Gonna have to keep that in mind. Been trying to help him score,” she explains with a cheeky grin. “Or I was before the whole—” she waves a hand, “-_ that _ whole fiasco.”

“Yeah…” Logan’s smile falters a little. “How are you two doing, anyway?”

“Me and Jonas?”

“You and Frankie.”

Again, Alex isn’t expecting that. “Fine. Why?” He glances down at her phone, and Alex blushes a little, but raises her chin like she has no idea what he could possibly be thinking. “We’re good,” she assures him again. He doesn’t look convinced. Or, at least— he looks a little concerned.

“Look, Alex. You’re a good kid.” That deserves a flat look, and he gets it. She’s not a kid. “If you’re happy with Frankie…” He looks like he’s weighing some options in his head, and he glances around the back of the shop. There’s only two mechanics on duty, and both are wrapped up in pretty involved projects. “…Good for you, I guess.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean? She’s giving him an incredulous look, but it’s his turn to wave her off.

“God, just text your secret lover or whatever.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Jonas   
  
Al, you know I never got a new number, right?   
  
And I never blocked yours.   
  
So..?   
  
What the hell.   
  
Idk bro ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯   
  
Technology? I don’t know her?   
  
Everyone’s lost their contacts at some point or another.   
  
Literally why “new phone who dis” is a thing

Logan has disappeared into the shop again, but he gave her the ‘just a minute’ hand signal before he went. Which means he’s getting her a snack. Awesome. She’s partial to Red Vines and pineapple Fanta. Probably the only person she knows who prefers the pineapple over orange, but it means no one ever tries to poach her drinks.

He’s on his way back out to her when her phone buzzes again, but Alex is distracted by the backpack in Logan’s hands. Weird. Hasn’t gotten a backpack from him before. And it’s the same one she’s been taking back and forth from the convention center and the office building down in East Portland — or looks like it, anyway. Not sure how that could’ve come around to the auto shop, though. Different routes.

“What’s with the bag?” She takes the snacks from his other hand, slipping the Red Vines into the pocket of her old red jacket (almost threadbare at this point), and cracking open the soda with a satisfying hiss of carbonation.

Logan shrugs. “Prototypes.” Literally all they ever say. “3D printer on Hawthorne.” That’s a little more in depth. Sounds about right. The place is some kind of industrial design thing, as far as she’s aware. She never actually goes into the building. Alex nods.

“Where to? Same place?”

He’s checking his phone. “I think so.” Logan is scrolling, and Alex is unimpressed.

“I mean, that’s usually where that one goes. I think it’s theirs, actually.” When he glances up, Logan looks surprised. She raises her eyebrows in an amused challenge. “What, you think I don’t know my routes? Gio, right? Works at the building on Hawthorne, always shows up outside right as I’m hitting that block. Super punctual, even if he’s a little-” her lips quirk, “_ -brusque. _” That’s one way to put it. The guy always seems in a hurry, and a little twitchy and irritated. High stress environment.

“…Yeah. Yeah, Gio.” He looks back to his phone. “Actually— Actually, no. This is supposed to go to—” He stops. “You know what, I think I can take this one.”

“You stealing my gig, Logan?” she teases.

“It’s a pain to find,” he smiles. “I’ve been there a few times.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Here.” Her payment comes with a few extra bills. “I got it.”

-

Jonas frowns a bit at the messages, though he’s mostly skimming, because he’s working on lunch and that requires most of his attention. Especially because he’s cutting up onions. Watery eyes plus a knife almost never ends well. Though once he’s finished the task (and made sure he doesn’t have onion juice on his fingers before wiping his eyes), he picks up his phone again, leaning up against the counter with one eyebrow raised. He didn’t think a glitch could do that. Make a contact disappear, sure, but change numbers? That doesn’t seem right. At all. Slowly, Jonas starts putting two and two together. He doesn’t like the outcome.

Alex   
  
Hey Al, weird question, but does anyone else have access to your phone?   
  
Like, know your password or anything?

Frankie. The unspoken accusation. The message unsent. Does Frankie know her password. Did Frankie change out his number. She _ would, _ he knows she would, being the jealous type. And a weak little liar who tries to slip out of people’s grasp.

-

Before getting back on her bike, before checking for other jobs, Alex frowns at her screen.

Jonas   
  
No?   
  
I mean

Well maybe. But Frankie doesn’t have her password. 62110. Michael’s death.

Jonas   
  
Can we not talk about her, please?

Her name wasn’t mentioned, but. …Look, Alex knows where this train of thought goes. And— And…

God, she really _ really _doesn’t want to consider that. It’s hard enough having to sneak around to talk to him. She can’t have another crisis of loyalty happening here. Alex would much rather forget it ever happened than to let something like this bring doubt into a relationship that already has a threat in the form of a friend who doesn’t even know he’s threatening it. …Fuck, this is complicated.

Jonas   
  
Look, I’ll change my password.

Shit. God, the doubt is already there. She hates it.

-

Alex   
  
Yeah. Sorry.

He’s apologizing far more often than usual. It’s out of fear, and out of an actual need to be sorry— Jonas shouldn’t be coming in between her and Frankie. Logan had said they actually like each other, and if Alex is happy, he can convince himself to be happy, too. Just maybe with a lot more alcohol or adrenaline in his system. Something to keep him motivated, or help him forget how much he cares about her. Because believe it or not (and he still halfway doesn’t believe it himself), he cares. So much. And it hurts, knowing she’s with someone else, knowing she’s someone else’s. But he can force himself to be okay. The rest of everything that comes with forcing himself to be okay is harder.

It means he has to forget a lot.

Alex   
  
How’d the job go?

The crooked smile she always gives him when she walks into a room. Arms wrapped around his back while he’d been driving her home. Little comforts Alex gives him, even if she doesn’t notice. It hurts. Everything hurts. He’s fine.

He has to be fine.

-

Jonas   
  
Good! Logan stole one of my jobs tho.   
  
Bitch   
  
ALSO okay why didn’t you say he’s your ex???   
  
HE’S A FUCKIN TWUNK JONAS   
  
Oh my God I can’t believe he told you.   
  
Asshole. Jesus.   
  
Anyways, yeah. He’s my ex. Didn’t say that because that’d be a weird introduction.   
  
‘Hey, this is Logan, my ex boyfriend who I used to run in a gang with’   
  
Real great.   
  
Embrace the bad boy rep angel   
  
OMG   
  
YOU’RE A HELLS ANGEL NOW   
  
BUT NOT   
  
Fallen Angel would be the proper term.   
  
You’ve known me for what, two months?   
  
Should have picked up on Heaven’s terminology by now.   
  
>.>    
  
…   
  
I s2g Jojo you’re like >.>

It’s the capitalization that did it. That’s a weird caps. Right? That’s like… that’s like a very Legit Caps. Like it’s an office. That’s an Office Caps.

-

Alex   
  
I’m like what?   
  
Have I not blended in well enough?

Jonas is fucking cackling.

-

Alex has her eyes narrowed at her screen. “…You motherfucker.”

Jonas   
  
…you motherfucker   
  
Hmmmmmm?   
  
Look if you’re reporting in you better be glossing over all this foul language   
  
Cocksucker.   
  
Unfortunately I can’t leave anything out of my reports, God sees all.   
  
Very unfortunately.

Alex’s grin is mockingly suspicious, and she wishes—

-

Alex   
  
I know you’re fucking with me   
  
You better be   
  
If you were here I’d be beating your ass right now, bud   
  
Seriously   
  
I’m scrappy   
  
I’d make an angel call mercy 😈

Jonas rolls his eyes a bit at her messages, and the emoji she sends with them. A little devil. Or at least, an attempt at being one, which is failing miserably because Alex is the best thing to happen to him yet.

Alex   
  
I’m going to repeat: Fallen Angel.   
  
At least you could act as if you care for Heaven’s political climate.

-

Alex jams her headphones into her phone, clicks call, and stuffs it into her pocket before climbing on her bike again as it rings.

-

He busts into a little fit of laughter once the call opens up, though he schools himself back into a serious tone before actually picking up. Jonas has to keep up the act, after all. “Angel speaking.”

-

“Seriously Jonas, fuck you,” she’s practically cackling as she pulls out into the street again.

-

Jonas wants to bite something back at her about Frankie, but that might be crossing a line. So instead he just snorts, “Yeah yeah. You called me ‘cause you’re on the road? At least, that’s what I can assume.”

-

Alex’s eyes are sharp, ‘cause she’s not dumb enough to actually stop paying attention, but she’s grinning to no one as she makes her way through afternoon traffic toward the bridge. “I am indeed. Logan stole one backpack, but I usually have a different one running north-south in the Pearl District, so I’mma pick that up early.” She’s tempted, since she saved that time, to just… invite herself over. But she’s way too aware that the last time she was in Jonas’s apartment she straight up threw herself at him, so… maybe not.

-

“Logan stole your route? Damn, he must be excited about something. Either that, or he’s not getting his usual payment.” Which wasn’t too much anyways, from what he can remember, but that’s not his problem anymore. Alex can hear him yelp over the receiver, letting out a string of curses as he shakes out his hand. Unthinking, Jonas had just grabbed a really fucking hot pan with an unprotected hand. “Ow, shit, son of a goddamned motherfucker—”

-

Alex laughs, and it’s the lightest sound she’s made in what feels like ages. “Okay, yeah, _ Fallen_. Hell, you’ve practically got _ my _ high-caliber filthy mouth on you, angel.” Shit, that’s not a thought to be having, Alex. Not a thought to be thinking right now. Still, it’s there. She said it.

Fine, move on. Quickly. “He didn’t steal the whole route. Just one run. Seemed to think I wouldn’t be able to find the place or something. But I got my Red Vines so. No big loss.” Speaking of— she pulls one from the open pack in her pocket, sticking it quick between her teeth before she gets her hand back on her handlebars to turn down the next block. There’s something else that’s nagging at her, but she’s too distracted, attention split between trying to chew the licorice, navigate her bike, and maintain a conversation. A thought had occurred to her, but what was it? Oh, that’s gonna annoy her until she figures it out. Or forgets it. Which, to be honest, will probably happen first.

-

“Yeah, well, forgive me for burning my hand. _ Ow. _ ” Jonas has to stick his phone between his shoulder and his jawline to run cold water over the burn, using his other (plus a potholder this time) to pull his food off of the stove. Though his eyebrows furrow at the odd wording— _ high caliber mouth? _ Okay, nope, that’s not— Just don’t think of that, maybe that would be good. Keep Logan’s words in mind. Wait until Frankie gets her teeth out of Alex to actually do anything. Jonas is good at waiting. Jonas can wait. “Red Vines? Really?”

-

“Yeah?” Alex mocks his tone. “Got a problem with Red Vines, Jojo?” With a bit of a smirk she holds the mic of her headphones up to her mouth, chewing exaggeratedly. “That good Red 40!” She laughs again, taking another turn and skids a bit on a loose bit of cardboard— “-Shit! Wait no I’m good. Fucking litter.”

-

Jonas feels his heart seize up for a minute when Alex starts skidding, paused in the middle of walking to get a plate so that he could actually eat. “Y’know, if I’m distracting you, I should probably just go. I don’t want you ending up hurt because of me. Again.”

-

“When was I ever hurt because of you?” Alex is legitimately befuddled. “I mean— yeah, okay, maybe I shouldn’t be trying to eat and bike and talk at the same time, but—” She pumps her brakes and brings her bike to a stop. “Jonas, you have definitely never hurt me.” It’s why Frankie’s argument felt so false to Alex’s ears. “You’re like—” _ My safe place. _ But that’s a stupid thing to say. Everything she thinks of is a stupid thing to say. She’s glad he can’t see the pink spreading up her neck as she tries to sound flippant. “Y’know. Guardian angel. That’s like— the _ opposite _of your job.”

Shaking her head, she pulls her phone from her pocket. “But you’re right, yeah. I’ll um…” She should hang up. “…It’s nice talking to you,” she admits, a little sheepishly. “I missed you.”

-

That… that hurts, but it’s the good kind. A soft ache for something he can’t have. Jonas’s little chuckle echoes over the line, and he’s nodding, even if she can’t see him. It’s good to have this back. It’s been good to have this back, after everything, after Frankie and Logan and the gang. After having to deal with the reality of his situation a bit too much. The world is brighter than before. Just a little bit. “I missed you too, Alex.” More than she can ever imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I just love writing them texting. Their banter is so much FUN. 
> 
> And next chapter-- HO BOY NEXT CHAPTER. That was a fun one to write. I love me some action. ;D
> 
> Don't forget to drop comments/questions/concerns/predictions/etc below! ^^
> 
> -OWT


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. There's a bit of… action in this chapter. Being that I (Turner) enjoy writing action, I wrote a fair amount more than I usually do (and even got to play Jonas! fun!) so there is once more the * rule, with "*" representing the same author, while the "-" marks a change in author. Hopefully it all reads smoothly. ^^

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/189327606340/holy-spirits-the-jonalex-bartender-au-it-brings)

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

It’s on Monday when the realization hits. When all of those accumulated ideas, mentionings and deals pop back into his head. Jonas had been getting ready for a ride just as the sun went down, but the plan is completely overturned when he finally figures out what his old crew’s game plan is. Logan said Mike was still managing. He was _ enforcing _ for Frankie. Which meant he was probably taking some of Frankie’s hold. And if Frankie still does what she used to do… with Alex as some kind of courier… 

So Frankie is using Alex to run drugs. And with a girlfriend working at the Island, there’s a perfect market. A perfect brew of club scene and a reason to be there making it seem like nothing is amiss. 

They really have stepped up their game since North Valley. But there isn’t any hesitation in what he’s going to do because of it. If the Island goes down, Alex could go down with it, and then he’ll be implicated, and nothing good will come of that. She may have deniability, but she’s still dating Frankie. One of the ring leaders. This has to end. Tonight.

Jonas climbs onto his bike, and takes off. Of course it isn’t long until he’s pulling up to the club, skidding to a stop in the first parking space he can find. People are staring, but that’s going to be a norm of the night, he thinks, with what he’s about to do. If he’s lucky, Mike and the rest will be inside, and he can end this quickly. If he isn’t… Well, he might have to go into hiding for a bit. Not like it’ll be easy, but doable. Then again if they just kill him outright his troubles would be over. That might be another option. A bad option, but another one. 

He takes the back way in to avoid all of the people crowding the front entrance, and that stupid bouncer, having learned to deal with the smell of stale booze and garbage. Just like coming into his own bar. Except this time he’s here to kick someone’s ass. It takes him a minute to curve up the alley and get into the club, passing by a rather confused coworker of Alex’s, just waving them off so that he can actually get inside. Mickey or something? Better if they don’t know anyways. Better if nobody but him knows. Then they can’t get grilled by the cops for something that will be just a confusing bar fight. 

Strobe lights and a neon aesthetic. Still not his scene, but one he’s getting used to, and one that matches his chosen companion pretty damn well. Alex lives for atmospheres like this. Probably to distract her from everything she thinks is wrong with her. Not great, but better than dipping into the bottle completely. 

He shouldn’t be thinking about this right now. Stay focused on the task at hand. It brings back old memories, hunting someone - something - down in order to bring some pain. He hopes this is a one-time thing. Jonas is already pumped full of adrenaline from both the ride over and his own racing thoughts, slipping through the sea of people and staying out of sight of the bar to search out targets.

The first person he spots is Logan, chatting with someone in the corner of the area they’ve sectioned themselves off into. To be dealt with later. Then it’s Frankie, then someone he doesn’t quite recognize, and moving closer more and more of his old ‘friends’ start popping up. Perfect. Must be something big going on. Or they upped security since the situation at the Kanaloa. The idea that he’d scared them that much actually manages to make him smile. Of course, the whole thing is ruined when another voice carries over the haze of EDM music and bodies.

“Jonas! Thought you got told not to come here.” Mike. That signature cheshire grin is on his face, one thumb in a belt loop, the other hand holding a drink. Jonas’s lip curls up in disgust.

“Thought you were smarter than this.” 

“Ohhh ohohohoh, are you trying to scare me now?” The other man takes a step forward, still safe behind his little velvet rope. Jonas doesn’t budge. There are things he could do right now— wring his neck, snap his arm, any of it. But he’s restraining himself. Mike, of course, notices. “Aw. Since when do you know how to hold back? That blue haired beauty of yours got your tongue?”

“I’m not here because of Alex.”

“Why _ are _ you here then?”

“To do something I should’ve done a long fucking time ago.” Jonas has no idea how he looks right about now, but the ring leader takes a step back, one eyebrow raised in what seems like concern. That’s good. That’s perfect. Running scared like a little rat. Jonas crosses their border, entering enemy territory. “And based on that reaction, I think you know what I’m talking about. Don’t you.”

He can feel hands on him before his body catches up with his head. Looks like Mike got some new muscle. Jonas has a guy on either arm, and their grip is nearly joint-popping when they tug his arms behind his back. Okay. He can get out of this. He can still get out of this. His first instinct is to start fighting _ now, _ to start busting heads and breaking bones, but _ now _ is too early. He needs a good opening. He needs a reason. And then Mike makes the mistake of taking out a knife. It’s that butterfly blade of his, more for a flashy intimidation tactic than for doing actual damage, seeming much more encouraged with some extra guys on board. A coward, just like always. Good. He can bank on that.

“Well now I gotta make an example of you. Really, Jonas, I didn’t want it coming to this. We could’ve coexisted! We could’ve forgotten all about that little… mm,_ hands on _ incident with Frankie. But now you think you can bust up my whole operation.” They’re face to face, damn near chest to chest, and Jonas still hasn’t moved. The opportune moment. Mike keeps talking, and he isn’t paying attention, until the butterfly knife starts raising toward his neck. That’s the cue. His head snaps back, before reeling forward, slamming into the bridge of the ring leader’s nose with a sickening pop and darting back to avoid a flailing blade hand. He can hear the pained yelp that comes out of him. Good. Fucking glorious, he deserves it.

One of the men loosens their grip. First mistake. Jonas takes his chances, jabbing an elbow into the man’s gut at all the wrong angles, sending him sprawling as Jonas’s arm tingles with pain. Probably did more than just hit his funny bone wrong. Clubgoers are starting to notice the scuffle, and he wants to get this over quickly, which means it’s on to the next contender. 

Maybe he’s missed this more than he’d thought.

-

Alex hadn’t wanted to believe it. And when she doesn’t want to believe things she’s very very good at ignoring them. Alex _‘Denial’_ Strickland. But things started to click when Frankie explained that the whole crew would be getting together at the Island and could she set them up as VIPs if Frankie put down a cash deposit - which, okay, not that weird, theoretically, except there’s no way they’d get a tab on cash only without putting down a hefty payment. Still, while a shit load of cash was a bit sus, it was when Alex learned who exactly the _ crew _ consisted of that she started to feel uneasy. 

More specifically, Frankie’s dismissive attitude and the few names she did mention connecting two separate routes from Alex’s courier gigs. People she hadn’t thought - until Logan had that backpack - had anything to do with each other. Logan. Who knew Jonas. Who Jonas said was in some kind of gang with him way back when. 

Who Jonas said— what was it? “_He’s not getting his usual payment._”

That’s what does it. That, and when Logan comes up to the bar with an easy smile and she thinks to ask _ so how do you know Frankie_, he gives her the way-too-enlightening. “_We’ve been running together since North Valley._” 

Which— okay, it doesn’t _ necessarily _ mean that him _ running with_ Jonas and him _ running with _ Frankie are the same kind of things, but… But it’s another drop of doubt dripped into her ear, working its way like poison into her, eating away at what she’d so hoped would be different. For once. She won’t be the idiot attached to some asshole who cares more about— about _ whatever _ that isn’t her. Too attached. Always too attached. Things start simple, a one night stand to a two night stand, to in bed together every night, and then she starts seeing it as something else, and they don’t, and she should know better than to attempt anything even resembling a relationship at this point. 

It’s just a minor crisis. 

Tiny crisis. 

Which just gets more confusing when Frankie’s at the bar, smiling and praising her and she feels so sure that this _ is _ different, that she _ does _ like her. It feels good to have her attention. To have her affection. And when things feel good Alex clings, because it’s easier to think on the positive than remember how bad things can get. And things don’t get bad with Frankie. Because Alex isn’t going to make them get bad. 

Still, her attention is soothing. Being pulled aside while on break, into a dark corner, and thoroughly distracted by lips on hers and hands wandering under her tank top is better. 

“We have a meeting babe, I’ll be back.”

Alex nods, grins, steals another kiss. 

Then Frankie is gone, and Alex’s mind would be wandering again, were it not for the fact that business is speeding up as it passes 11pm. Work keeps her busy, it’s why she likes it. 

“Al, your not-ex just walked into the club like he’s on the warpath; might wanna keep an eye on him.” 

“Hm?” Alex is in the middle of a five-drink order, with two made and another in her shaker, when Mick has her hand on the small of Alex’s back, speaking the words low into her ear on her way behind. 

“Tall guy. The one you were lusting after.”

“Which one?” Alex jokes, though she puts it together that Mick’s referring to Jonas, and adds: “Where?”

Mick is sweeping her gaze back and forth, then shrugs. “He came in through the back. Dunno where he ended up.”

It’s a few minutes later that something starts to feel off.

Frankie comes up, looking like she’s just barely holding herself back. “Alex, we’re leaving.”

“I’m literally— I have like another hour left of this shift, babe-”

“That _ friend _ of yours? The one you’re so convinced is innocent?” There’s noise under the bass of the music, something from the velvet-roped area she just came from. “Yeah; he’s a psycho.”

Alex frowns. “Jonas?”

“Yeah, _ Jonas. _ I told you he’s bad news. We need to get out of here.”

Mick is back again, at her side, and Alex doesn’t realize how much she needed the support until the blonde is there. “Alex can’t leave. If there’s trouble, we’ve got security. You can go, but she’s not coming with you.” 

The glare Frankie turns on Alex’s coworker is a hell of a lot angrier than she ever looks to Alex. “You know what, _ bitch-_”

Okay, now there’s definitely noise. Something metal falling over, probably one of the stands roping off the area. Frankie looks toward it. “Ugh. Fuck this.” She leaves without a second look at Alex, which… hurts. A lot.

*

“You’re making a scene, Long.” Mike’s voice is muffled, a hand over his nose, the skin along the bridge of it split and bleeding. “You don’t want to start a scene here.” 

But it’s not like his own people are doing much to avoid it, either. The plan seems to be to keep Jonas from moving things toward the dance floor, so they’re closing in from the exits. The one who’s still got a grip on Jonas’s arm twists it hard behind him, trying to get leverage with a barred arm across the back of Jonas’s shoulders and an aimed kick to his knee to bring him down to the ground and end this early. 

It doesn’t quite go as planned. Jonas still has an arm free, and that means a sharp elbow jamming back into the side of his attacker’s head. Someone else is coming up his right side again, like they can tackle him around the waist, but either no one told them or they inconveniently forgot that Jonas has been training for years now. He’s gotten nimble and these guys not so much, so with the right - or wrong, depending on your point of view - shift in hold Jonas has both arms free again and isn’t afraid to use them. If they’re bringing knives to a fistfight, they aren’t afraid to fight dirty. So this is no holds barred. 

Hair is grabbed and fingers poked into eyes, into ears, into any soft spot he can find, ‘cause it won’t take long for them to realize he’s not gonna be a gentleman about this and they’ll realize they can be just as brutal in return. He thanks fucking God for the warehouse and their whole ‘teachers get classes for free’ ‘cause there’s definitely a few tricks he wouldn’t have known otherwise, and they’re essential in his first KO of the night. The second one he’s not so proud of - to really hit below the belt - but the guy is doubled over and dry heaving before Jonas brings a foot up and down into the back of his head, and he’s flat and not getting up any time soon. 

“Fucking maniac, I knew we kept you on a leash for a reason.” There’s some theatrical element to Mike’s voice, a bit of _ impressive, Mr Bond_, but his eyes are darting to the rest of his crew, because this is getting out of hand. 

Those same eyes go wide when Jonas reaches for the nearest bottle. There’s no use trying to break it, but it’s a thrown weapon at least. And if they have knives, he really shouldn’t let them get to them. He hurls the bottle at Mike, who barely sidesteps and the thing flies wide and shatters on the dance floor below. 

-

“So sorry about that, Mikey,” his voice is all shades of condescending glee, “-but I think the scene just got started.”

-

With him distracted, Jonas goes for the knife. Not that he plans to stab anyone, ‘cause… well, that’s a last resort. He’s got enough blood on his hands without actual hemorrhaging. 

“Jonas. You don’t want to do this.” Finally the voice of reason is coming from Logan. He’s got his hands up, placatingly, but his eyes are darting to others in the group as more knives are pulled.

“Put your fucking knives down,” Mike spits, “we’re not here to kill anyone in a fucking club.” _ In a fucking club. _ Like it would be fine somewhere else. They definitely upped the ante since North Valley. 

Already, half of the group has fled. People who weren’t prepared to throw down, or didn’t want to get caught when the cops showed — and they’ll be showing eventually, that’s for sure. After the crash of glass into a crowd, someone would know. Those who are left look warily at an armed Jonas.

“Drop the knife. We drop ours. This isn’t gonna be a murder scene.” 

-

“Drop yours first.” 

Mike pulls a face, opens his mouth to say something, when Jonas interrupts again. 

“Thought you weren’t scared of me?”

-

“You’re a fucking dumbass. You think this won’t come back on you? On your girlfriend? On this whole fucking neighborhood? You want to turn this club into a crime scene?” 

But Logan is already moving forward, plucking the knives from the hands of others, giving them a look that warns them not to argue, and Mike isn’t stopping him. Finally, when they’ve all been unarmed, Logan comes to Jonas, holding out a hand.

It’s like they’re holding their breaths. This is why Logan did the job, obviously. A hell of a lot harder to stab someone you used to love. And an open hand is an easy target. 

“Jonas.” His voice is low. “This is better for everyone.” 

-

Logan’s right. He knows Logan is right, because he’s usually right, and Jonas hasn’t really been thinking in the long-term here. Then again he never thought in the long term— unless he was being stupid. Technically he’s being really stupid right now. He doesn’t really want to let go of the knife. There’s a kind of peace offering that comes with dropping weapons, and peace isn’t what he came here for, though the talk with Logan at the Kanaloa had reminded him of a few things. More than a few things. One part of his brain is telling him to be reasonable, to be rational, to just hand over the knife and finish this. Some other, feral part, just wants to attack. 

He listens to the rational part of his brain. Jonas flicks his knife around, and holds it handle-out toward the other man. “Here. Fuckin’ take it.” 

-

As soon as Jonas’s knife is in Logan’s hand, it’s chucked aside and Logan has a grip on Jonas’s wrist, yanking him off balance and getting him into a headlock. 

“Listen,” his voice is quiet, hissed between teeth as he struggles to keep a hold. “Play docile, let a few of them leave. Then you hit me and _ run_, you get me? You and Alex, ‘cause there’s no way she hasn’t put it together yet and she’s a _ good kid _ that’s gonna be pulled into a lot of shit because of this.”

The music is too loud for his words to carry to the rest of the group, who are watching warily. 

“Act it up, Jo.” 

The noise he makes has a lot more effort behind it than the nudge to the back of Jonas’s leg - an attempt to get him on the ground. 

“Sirens.” It’s unclear who’s said it, but as soon as it’s said, the inevitable truth is obvious, even if the sound isn’t actually audible. They aren’t here yet, but they will be soon. 

*

Okay, there’s _ definitely _ something happening, and Alex is _ not _ happy about it. She’s part irritated, and mostly just _ scared_, but she sure as hell can’t show that. Or she can try not to show it, at least. 

She’d been trying to do her job, but gradually more and more attention was being paid to that spot just off the floor around the corner from her view, where she _ knew _ Frankie’s crew was. She saw familiar faces leaving, and gradually the area next to it cleared. 

“Someone has a knife— they’re threatening a guy with a knife-”

And then the bottle smashing into pieces.

“Thanks,” Mick has this way more under control than Alex at the moment, as she gives the wide-eyed girl a reassuring glance, but the look she levels on Alex kicks her into gear, too. This is work. Things happen. This is her job, to handle it. “Call the cops, I’ll get Rob and security.” 

Alex nods, whips out her phone and puts in the call. 

Apparently, she’s not the first. Someone else must’ve seen the knife. They’re already on their way, but the nearest precinct won’t be here fast enough. They have bouncers for this. Mick is getting them. Or maybe Will. Someone is doing it. 

Alex should stay behind the bar. Stay safe. But then she hears it.

-

Jonas screams bloody murder. Of course he does; he has every right to. Half of it is payback for Logan scaring the absolute shit out of him, because having him attack out of the blue had made him even more feral than before, but it’s also because of what he’d said. _ Act it up. _ If that’s the plan… Jonas’s hands grapple onto Logan’s arm, trying to tear himself out of the hold, but it doesn’t seem like he’s getting out that way. At the same time, he lets his leg give out, and then he’s being shoved into the ground kicking and screaming.

Some of the others have fled. Most are more afraid of the cops than they are of Jonas, which is something Logan had probably been banking on when he pulled this move. The other man starts pushing the back of his head, more trying to press him down, while Jonas keeps shouting a garbled mess of insults and curses. 

“Shut the _ hell _ up, Long!”

“**_Fuck you!_ **”

His forehead hits the floor, and Jonas hisses air through his teeth, fighting the hold for just a few more seconds; trying to scratch, bite, anything he can do. Until finally he goes limp. Mike looks triumphant - scared, but triumphant nonetheless - when he stoops down to Jonas’s level. “Where’s all that fight, pup?”

Oh he’s gonna get it. He’s definitely going to get it. “You want a fight? You want-” Ow. Shit. That hurts. Logan has hit his head against the ground again, but it probably sounds worse than it actually is. Jonas shuts up. The ring leader stands, motions for some of his crew to stay, and then dismisses the rest.

“Logan, get him off his ass.” Mike spits the words as he starts for the dance floor, and Logan’s tugging Jonas up by his arms, maybe a little too harsh with his grip.

“Ow. Dude. Ease up.” The words are muttered, just low enough for the other man to hear.

“Nope. This is payback for screaming in my ear.”

Jonas wheels his head around. To anyone else, it would look like he was trying to take a chunk out of him with his teeth, but Logan has that shit-eating grin on his face. It’s too dark to really see other features, even if that’s the telltale face of a smug motherfucker. “Seriously?”

“Yup. Now keep moving, _ Long._”

He hates this.

-

Jesus. That’s bad. Whatever that is, it’s bad. 

Smart people stay put.

Alex would be staying put. Maybe. Probably? But she’s got a bad feeling about this. (Which, yeah, probably makes a better case for staying put, but…)

Fuck. No, she has a gut feeling. And the last time she went with her head instead of her gut she lost her guardian angel, and she’s not letting that happen again. So she scrambles out from behind the bar, heading for the dance floor, her tank and jeans clashing with the rest of the club-goers, but a hell of a lot easier to move in. 

Her heart rockets into her throat when she catches sight of what’s going on. 

“Oh my god-” Okay. Yeah. That’s— that’s Jonas. And he doesn’t look good. But… fuck, there’s something totally wrong with her. He looks _ good. _ The feral thing is working for him. Which is pretty fucked. But Alex knows her tastes skew unstable. 

The people with him she recognizes, too. Gio. Chris from the place in the Pearl District. And— what the fuck, she thought Jonas and Logan were on good terms. Alex glares at the blond who has Jonas’s arms pinned back. Traitor. 

*

It’s just five of them, now. Logan, Mike, two guys Jonas has never met before, and Chris from the old crew. Logan is the one dragging him across the floor - or pushing him, really - ‘cause they’re gonna do their best to ditch this place before the cops come but don’t want to leave Jonas behind. Not if they can help it. That seems to be the plan, anyway. Jonas is faking a limp. Logan has his arms forced behind his back, sandwiched in a lock that isn’t giving him the best mobility, but it looks worse than it is. They’re getting a wide berth as people start to realize what’s happening, but they’re heading for a back exit. Ha. Like he’s letting them take him somewhere else. Somewhere away from Alex. 

They’re practically in the middle of the dance floor when he breaks the hold. It’s like it happens in slow motion. The slight adjustment, pulling up short, shifting his weight and torquing enough to pull Logan off balance - and with a willing victim he’s free too easily, Logan stumbling onto the floor. Jonas is up and swinging immediately, going for the one that had been following behind, a sloppy fist glancing off the guy’s shoulder but letting him maneuver back to put all his enemies on one side. 

A punch comes at him, but the man swings wide, not close enough to even graze him. He darts in, arms up, gets in a strike and then uses the guy’s next swing to shift again, get to his side to twist his arm down and back and force his head toward the ground as Jonas drives his knee up into the guy’s face with a sharp crack. Jonas stumbles forward as someone hits him in the kidneys before getting an arm around his neck. First enemy discarded, he focuses on years of training. Tucking his chin in under the hold, adjusting his stance, jabbing bony elbows into soft belly, and angling to free himself before immediately whaling on his attacker, blow after blow until someone else starts hitting him. 

Shit— He pulls back, once more getting his enemies on one side of him. Can’t be caught between them. At least now they’re down to three. Well, three and Logan, who’s back up and standing behind the rest, though he looks as ready to throw down. The one who’d tried choking him doesn’t look too good, stumbling a little. That’s what you get for a fuckin’ jab in the kidneys, though. The next strike coming at him gets deflected before Jonas slams a fist into an eye, getting in an extra blow to the guy’s cheekbone before backing off again. Distance. Distance is good, for not getting hit. 

Okay. Halfway done. Mike and Logan are both hanging back. Mike ‘cause he’s fuckin’ scared - he always was, had to get others to do his dirty work for him - and Logan ‘cause he knows what the fuck is up. Still leaves one guy with the gall to throw a right hook. Fucking idiot. Jonas is fast. Faster than he used to be. He’s got the training, the conditioning. Redirecting the fist coming at him, he brings a hard right hand up to crack into the guy’s chin, feeling teeth snap together, the whole shockwave of impact that sends him down like a sack of bricks. One _ perfect _ strike. One shot KO. It’s a rush. 

Down to two. His ears are ringing. Hands are bloody. Might have split his lip at some point, and there’s definitely gonna be a lot of bruising tomorrow. And probably for the next couple weeks. Doesn’t matter. 

Logan is shaking his head. The message is clear. _ I don’t want to do this. _ But they have to. So he barrels in and Jonas angles himself to take the blows on his forearms instead of his face. They’re not as hard as they could be, but nothing close to _ weak_. Can’t lose face. And, after all, he told Jonas to _ run. _

Jonas didn’t run. 

It’s Jonas’s turn to do the choking, Logan’s nails scratching at his wrist and arm and breaking skin where he can reach it, but he’s letting himself loosen up, and Jonas almost feels guilty that he has to ignore the slap at his arm asking to tap out. No tapping out from this. Sorry, not sorry. Logan takes the hint, goes limp, with a hissed, “_Fucking Christ._”

“You motherfucker-” 

Shit, Mike.

And— he’s got a knife. That fucking butterfly knife. Flashy piece of shit. 

Jonas has to dodge a slash from the knife— ow, okay, _ ow _— He stumbles back, getting out of range again, ‘cause he wasn’t quite far enough and now his face is bleeding. Focus. Gotta neutralize the weapon. Catch the strikes with his jacket, ‘cause it’s thick, focus on taking Mike down without getting stabbed, yeah.

*

“What the fuck, Alex-” Mick isn’t happy to see her out from her post, but is taken aback by the anger in her coworker’s face. 

“The guy has a knife— he’s the one from before, I think, but—”

“Oh shit, that’s your boyfriend.”

“He’s not—” Now really isn’t the time to argue this. “Look, he was the one being threatened, he can’t take the fall for this.” That, and his history of… legal problems. 

Mick gives her a sidelong glance, but Alex has that stubborn look about her. “…Cops are coming.”

“Mick.”

“Lemme talk to Rob.” 

“Thank you.”

*

It takes too long. Really wish this could’ve been over before it started. But after too many close calls and few scratches across his bike jacket, an unfortunate lucky strike that stings like a motherfucker across his chest, Jonas finally has a hold on the wrist with the knife and is bearing down hard enough to feel the grind of bone on bone. The knife goes down, but Jonas take a blow to the head that’s a lot harder than he’d expected, knocking him to the floor. But, hey: no more knife.

“You’re a fucking dead man, lifter.” 

Jonas grabs for Mike’s leg as he runs, and he’s down on the ground for a second before his foot slams into Jonas’s face and Jonas loses his grip. His nose is bleeding. His eyes are watering, vision gone blurry, and there’s definitely blood in his mouth from one source or another. Mike is running, of course he’s running, but—

But fuck it, Jonas is done. He won. Or close enough. The victory doesn’t quite salve the pain, but it helps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's maybe a _teensy tiny bit_ melodramatic. 😏 But look, we had a damn good time. Hopefully you did too? It's not quite over yet, emotions will be running high for… a while yet. But I for one am curious to know how the action reads. Too technical? Not clear enough? Drop a comment, I'm interested in reactions for this whole scene.  
-OWT


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some oof.

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

“He’s ours.” Mick voice carries, sounding self-assured, enough that Alex thinks Jonas may have been unwittingly drafted to the Island security team without his knowledge - but if that’s what has to happen for him to be cleared, fine. Thank god for Mick and her quick thinking. 

Alex didn’t bother waiting to be questioned. The cops are focused on looking for the ones who ran, and Mick is holding them up with chatter. Alex is on her knees at Jonas’s side. “Hey,” she puts out a hand to shake his shoulder, ‘cause he’s either passed out or severely dazed.

-

At first, he doesn’t quite recognize the voice. His ears are still ringing, and he’s sure blood and bruises are starting to show up more heavily on his body, but Jonas still tries to get away when some unknown hand comes down on him. It isn’t much more than a jerking motion so that he can roll away - or try to roll, he only ends up on his side - when he spots that bright blue hair. He doesn’t know anyone else with bright blue fucking hair. Relief floods his nervous system almost instantly, and he manages something like a smile. It doesn’t stay for long.

“Alex,” Jonas’s words are mumbled, half because he’s speaking with a cut on his face and half because he’s avoiding attention from others. “Help.”

-

Well, he’s conscious. That’s good. And he’s asking her for help. Which… well fuck. She’s not sure how much help she can be, really. “Hey, angel.” Her voice is soft, the crooked grin a little hesitant. It’s really really hard not to touch him. He just took a _ beating_. And gave one, too, as evidenced by the one attacker still unconscious on the ground, while the rest have fled. Unfortunately it’s not Logan, ‘cause Alex was about ready to give the guy a piece of her mind, but he disappeared while everyone was focused on that knife. 

“Cops are here.” She’s not thrilled to be sharing that news.

-

Oh shit. Oh _ shit. _ Well, okay, that’s that then. Jonas isn’t aware of it when his body goes tense again, and even if he’s exhausted, he looks ready to bolt. Alex has seen him go through a lot of emotions before. His concerned expression when she’d cut her foot, his soft little grin as they danced, but she’s never seen him this petrified of something. Like someone kicked a dog out onto the street or caught a deer in headlights. If not running, then he should just curl up as small as he can— or even better, do absolutely nothing. The cops being here is a death sentence, unless they’ve come up with an excuse as to why he’d been kicking ass in the middle of a fucking club. What had he been thinking?

He wasn’t. Jonas wasn’t thinking, clearly, obviously; because he’d put himself in danger. He’d put Alex in danger. Fuck, why did he do that? Relief turns to guilt, and now he’s terrified, eyes flicking around to try and gauge where the officers are.

-

Alex’s grimly cynical smile at the news of cops softens as he starts to panic. “Hey, shh, calm down.” Yeah, okay, she can’t exactly _ not _ touch him now. A thumb brushes gingerly over his cheek, just under the cut that’s still bleeding freely. “We’re claiming you as ours.” There’s a little playfulness in her smile, even if it’s under a half ton of worry. “Just have to figure out how to get you hired as of three days ago.” Her clean hand runs fingers through his hair in a kind of pacifying gesture. “But we gotta stand now, bud. Gotta get out of here and give management time to cobble together a story.” 

-

Jonas flinches again, even if it’s out of habit, though he forces his eyes back onto Alex’s features and does his best not to pull away. As if that will help. She’s saying something about a story, hired as of three days ago, he doesn’t quite understand it; but getting out of here rings true. Getting out of here is a good idea. Getting out of here would be a blessing. His body is begging him to slow down, to tap out for the night, just pass out on the floor and rest. That isn’t an option now. So he gets an arm underneath himself and pushes up (he can feel the bruises already starting to form underneath his jacket, everything aches, everything stings), forcing himself up and onto his knees. Well, that’s half his body down.

-

This is… Welp, this isn’t gonna be easy. “Up and at ‘em, angel, here we go—” He’s heavy. Too-long limbs and too much muscle, but Alex has got an arm over her shoulders and is trying. “As happy as I’d be to have you falling all over me, now isn’t the time,” she murmurs dryly, glancing to Mick who’s still covering their escape as Will cleans up the broken glass. Fuck, this is a mess. She just needs to get Jonas off the floor and somewhere safe for a couple minutes to let the heat die down, then they can go get him patched up and figure out what the hell happened. “A few more feet, bruiser, almost there.” The teasing is tired, physically and emotionally, as she directs him through a back hall to a storage room. 

-

Bruiser. Jesus Christ, is she serious? Jonas knows it’s probably her own way of trying to lighten the mood, but it’s not really working, because there are too many people talking at once and he can hear the radio chatter from policemen and the lights are still going, why the hell are there so many lights this should be illegal— 

Then it’s all quiet again. A storage room. Looks like they’re hiding for a little while. He’s just happy to be away from it all. Usually he’d be smoking already, but he doesn’t have the fresh air or the energy to do it, much less actually get out the pack that’s probably crushed in his pocket by now. Once he’s sure the door is closed, and that Alex is safe, and that the particular box he’s picked out can hold his weight, Jonas drops down onto it in a heap. 

Now that he’s off the floor, only with her, he has far fewer inhibitions about showing just how badly he’s hurt, because _ holy shit everything hurts. _ “Never… call me that again.”

-

“Careful-” But he’s already settled himself, and it seems to be a place he’s ready to stay for a minute. God. He looks just… _ haggard. _ The fluorescent light isn’t particularly gentle, but it’s a lot easier to see in than the odd hues on the dance floor, and he doesn’t look too hot. (Okay, he always looks hot, that’s not the point; he doesn’t look _ well_.) 

“Fuck.” It’s mostly a sigh. Mostly an _ oh god, what the hell have we gotten ourselves into _ kind of sigh. Alex feels like she should be doing something, but hell if she knows what that something is. She wants to pace, but she doesn’t want to leave his side. So she stays by him, shin-to-shin, and has to settle her restless nature with that same hand in his hair, combing and twining and fidgeting away. Carefully. ‘Cause fuck, he looks broken. “What was all that about?” 

-

All he can really offer up to that is a half shrug and a breathless, bitter kind of chuckle. Jonas shouldn’t have done any of this. Even if they started it, he should’ve been the bigger person, he should’ve stepped back. _ Don’t cause drama. You never like it. _ Too late for that now. Alex’s hands are in his hair, and his eyes sting, because— he’s so guilty. He probably shouldn’t even feel guilty, but fuck it, there it is, and she’s so soft with him and he doesn’t know why. How can she be so goddamn soft? How can she still care? 

Jonas may be panicking, but he’s not going to have a breakdown in the middle of a back room. At least, that’s what his mind is telling him. His body is still in the middle of danger mode, and with the lack of fight-or-flight instincts kicking in, it feels like he’s falling into a hole. Guilt, panic, guilt, panic, and there he goes. The salt of tears stings when it hits the open gash on his cheek.

-

Alex’s phone is going off. She slips her free hand - nope, she stops, rubs at her jeans, the rust of drying blood pilling up onto the black denim, _ then _ slips her hand - back into her pocket to pull it out. Frankie. There’s a moment of hesitation, but she clicks it to silent, setting it aside. Just going to ignore that for now. When she looks back to Jonas he’s crying, and holy fuck how does she even—

God, why does that hurt so much to see? 

She comes closer, brings her other hand up as well, both rubbing soothing circles into his scalp, ducking to rest her forehead against his. “Shh, you’re okay.” The comforting words are weak, her chest too tight. This is new, with him. She’s been the one cared for, but this is new, and she doesn’t quite know what to do. She rests her cheek to the top of his head. “You’re— we need to get you to a doctor or something, I don’t know,” she mumbles, “but you’ll be alright.” _ I think. _

“I’ll—” No, she walked to work. “You—” How did— “How did you get here?” He should go to the hospital. He’s still bleeding, and for all she knows he might have a concussion or something, she doesn’t know how any of this works. “Is anything broken?” Oh god, there’s so many things she should be asking, “Are you— Is—” A tiny panicked noise slips from her throat before she swallows it down again, but she’s feeling the desperation. “Jonas, please, I don’t know how to help.” She wants to. She really really wants to, but all she can do is just… nothing. Just try. Fumble her way through, bullshit it in the hopes of doing what needs doing.

-

_ No doctors. _ He may not be able to say it, but he still thinks the words, like she can read his mind. No doctors, no hospitals, no cops. Jonas shakes his head at the question of things being broken. There’s probably a whole lot of blood and bruising, but it doesn’t seem like anything is actually broken. Getting here he’d been on his bike, even if that definitely isn’t going to be the way he gets back, based off of how much of a beating he’s taken. He can’t even think of how he’s getting back yet— Shit, he might have to leave his bike here, shit shit, okay— _ Slow down. _ Slowing down isn’t an option.

She doesn’t know how to help. She hasn’t done this before. Now he just feels more guilty, because he’s supposed to be strong _ for her, _ not the other way around. Jonas wants to get his arms around Alex, he wants to just wrap himself up in her and forget about the world, but he’s too tired, too dazed to think of anything more than trying not to cry. Which he’s already failing at miserably. 

“Just—” His voice breaks, and that’s new to hear. He’s begging with the next words, not realizing tone. “Stay. Please, stay, I— _ Please._”

-

Alex can do that. Even if she feels like there’s something else that could be more, that could be useful, she can do _ that. _ She can stay. 

She’s not sure how long they stay there, but she’s holding onto him, resisting her first-instinct urge, shaming herself for it, ‘cause that’s all kinds of fucked up, and instead focusing on just letting the contact with him be her ground. Solid. Reliable. Focusing on breathing, even if she’s just breathing in _ him_, the sweat and blood and tears of him. She wants more— but she always wants more. Especially with him, and she’s not particularly proud of that. 

Breathing is good, though. Breathing and steadying - fortifying - herself. Once her breaths are even, she feels a little better. A little stronger. 

She has to do _ something. _ “Angel, we need to clean you up and get you some medical attention.” That sounds logical. “And please, for the love of God, tell me what happened tonight.” 

-

Medical attention usually means hospitals, and he isn’t even going to reach into that can of worms yet, so he just shakes his head at her again and again and again. No doctors. No hospitals. Just— Jonas wants to go home. He wants to hold her, he wants a lot of things, and he can’t do them and it’s going to kill him that he can’t. Useless. A whole lot of good a useless protector can do. 

When he speaks again, his voice is still rough, and it only gets worse over time. “Confrontation. I- I tried to talk, and— Mike pulled a knife on me. Fuckin’ Mike.” He manages a barked laugh, and then pushes his forehead further against Alex’s. “Headbutted him. Fighting started. Logan- Logan helped, he— _ Act it up. _ Why I screamed.” 

A lot of this isn’t a great explanation, but it’s better than knowing nothing. Jonas can fix up his point of view later. “Took my knife. Threw a bottle, at some point, I think? I don’t… Was supposed to run. Kept fighting.” 

Finally, his arms listen to him. They wrap as best they can around her waist, loose enough to just be there, but it’s a comfort. He doesn’t mean to make himself worse. Contact is making him relax, which is making him soft, which is making him sob. Jonas’s head just keeps chanting guilty at him, like banging the gavel of a courtroom, _ guilty guilty guilty guilty. _ It’s right. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

-

There’s a second when Alex’s world turns upside down. It comes back quick, but there was a second - there’s always a second - when that name makes her face go blank and empty. It’s stupid. It’s been so long, almost 10 years, but she still can’t hear his name out of context without remembering. Fair, probably. He’s her brother. Was her brother. 

She zones back in in another second, but blinks as she tries to fit the pieces together in her mind. Jonas’s fragmented sentences don’t help, but she figures it’ll sort itself out in time. But _ why? _ Why had all of this started? She should be asking that. _ Why? _ The word is on her tongue. But his arms are wrapping around her and oh god no. Fuck. No. 

Her instincts are horrible. Counterproductive and— and invasive, and _ inappropriate_, and god this is just— she’s horrible. Horrible. 

There had been a moment where she thought she could do this. That moment is gone too quickly with him pulling her close. She’s always been too pliable that way. Too easy. 

The movement from standing to straddling him is instinctual - _ shitty, shitty instincts _ \- and her breath is on his face as he’s apologizing and _ what the fuck is wrong with her_. She can’t let herself be sad. Can’t let other people be sad. She needs to fix it, and she doesn’t know how, so she does the one thing she knows feels good and she kisses him. 

Which is stupid. So stupid. 

-

Alex is kissing him. It doesn’t make sense, none of it does. Why she’s still here, why she still tries to help, for everything that happened tonight. He told himself he hadn’t come here because of her. He had. He was lying to himself, which wasn’t new, but Jonas just… He can’t lie anymore. Too tired to bother trying.

He’s kissing back.

-

She’s not sure if it’s relief or emotion or just pure oxytocin that’s fucking with her, but whatever it is is cut short before she gets a chance to figure it out, as the door to the room opens and Alex breaks away with a half-swallowed yelp, like she’s been kicked. Kicked by her conscience, anyway.

“Alex, you two need-”

“_Ohmygod_, I’m so sorry—” Her eyes are wide, panicked, and her grip is probably too strong as she forces herself back, stumbling to her feet. “Jonas, you— I—” Fuck. Why. 

“Alex?” It’s Mick. Of course it is. She’s the one who knows what’s happening. And she’s the one grabbing Alex’s wrist, pinching her gently and pulling her attention to the present. “You need to leave.” It’s spoken clearly, firmly, eyes darting between Alex’s, waiting to catch the understanding. “I called you a car to get to the health center on Howard. Get your boyfriend patched up and keep your phone _ on_, we need to get some information.”

“He’s—” She shakes her head, helplessly, but Mick’s grip tightens and Alex winces but is grateful for it. She’s right. Stupid thing to argue about right now. 

Mick turns to Jonas. “Can’t leave your car overnight, so you’ll need to have someone move it.” There’s a second that her words hang. “…Jesus fucking Christ, take a breath you two, I’m not gonna tattle on you for making out in the supply closet.”

-

Fucking Christ, what is it with people and hospitals. Why hospitals. What are they good for? They hadn’t helped his mom, they won’t help anyone, and they’re just— No. Just no. Jonas can’t afford to get all glassy eyed again, but he still doesn’t want to move, registering both Alex slipping away and Mick opening the door. So he does his best to wipe tears off of his face, heels of his hands almost scraping at skin, forcing himself back onto his feet just after. Everything still hurts, he’s not surprised. “Don’t have a car. Bike.”

Calling Daniel to pick it up could probably work. Jonas starts for the door, one arm wrapped around his waist in an attempt to keep himself upright, the other hanging almost uselessly at his side until he reaches Alex. Then he’s twining their fingers together, because he just wants contact, and he’s scared. It’s been a long time since he’s been scared. “Can’t… really afford a hospital. Sorry.”

It’s a half truth. He doesn’t have the best insurance anyways, so he can probably get away with this little white lie. Anything to avoid having to smell antibiotics and too dry tools and hear that damn beeping over and over and over again. Anything to keep away from hospitals.

-

“Bike?” Mick looks confused, then intrigued. “The Suzuki out by the back?” She lets out a kind of ‘huh’ noise. “Hell, I’ll keep an eye on it if you want.” 

Alex’s head is… everywhere. All at once. Why is he holding her hand? Why did he come to her after she just— just— whatever the hell she’d just done. He doesn’t like her like that, he doesn’t, she’s just— she’s—

“Alex.” Mick’s voice is firm, but quiet, and she’s got her hands on Alex’s cheeks. “Stick with me, champ.” Alex’s eyes still aren’t quite focused, but Mick has good instincts. 

“Ow!” She lets go of Jonas, slapping at Mick’s hand as it pulls back from yanking on her ear. 

“There we go.” 

Well, it worked. 

“You take your boy home, clean up, get some rest. I’ll be in touch. Get some sleep.” She pulls Alex’s head forward to kiss her on the forehead. “Night, Al. It’s the blue Honda. They’ll get you wherever.”

-

Jonas just nods at Mick, because thank God she’d taken that excuse, and as soon as he has a verification of the car he’s starting for the door. There’s a difference between the way he and Frankie move, though. She didn’t wait for Alex. He does. He gets as far as the doorway before glancing back to make sure she’s following, to make sure she’s still there, and once she’s caught up he takes her hand again. Because he needs that comfort. He needs Alex, more than he’ll ever admit to anyone other than her. Maybe she’ll figure it out later. Maybe when they’re less crazed, less beat up, less confused. Less of everything.

It’s how she deals with her problems, the physical contact. The kissing. All of it. So he can’t think of it as anything else. It hadn’t exactly helped, but it hadn’t hurt him either, and that was the big idea of the whole thing. To try and help, because Alex doesn’t quite know how. They’re walking out of the club in silence, waiting for the fabled blue Honda to pull up, and Jonas has managed to lean himself against walls or find other supports so Alex doesn’t have to do as much carrying. It wouldn’t be fair. He’s already attached to her at the hip tonight, making it harder by having to have her damn near drag him anywhere wouldn’t be fun. But his brain keeps nagging at him. 

“You know there were drugs in those bags,” his words are muttered, exhausted. “Right? They’re a kinda gang. I used to work a chop shop with ‘em. Frankie ran drugs on the side. Guess it’s a main op now…”

-

Alex winces. Had she known? “…I guess.” No. Not really. Or maybe she’d just been… “I don’t know. I’m—” She lets out a hollow laugh. “I’m really _ really _ good at lying to myself.” Her easiest mark. She lets out a long sigh, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Maybe not,” she admits, and it’s exhausting. “I’m just—” And all of them knew. All of them knew except for her. “They must think I’m a complete idiot.” She is. 

She wants to lean up against him, to hold onto him, but she’s already crossed that boundary once tonight, and she feels guilty just for holding his hand. “God. I hadn’t even— Frankie.” It’s hard to put all the parts of the puzzle together. But one thing seems to be screaming at her. “I thought…” She’s still shaking her head as the headlights pass over them, the car pulling up. “I really thought… I don’t know.” That this would be different. But everyone is right about her. She’s an idiot, when it all comes down to it. Blind. Deaf. Dumbass. 

Alex pulls Jonas behind her as she approaches the car, climbing into the back as she gives her apartment address. If he won’t have medical attention, she can at least let him stay in her spare room to keep an eye on him. 

-

Jonas is about ready to settle in and fall asleep in the backseat, because he has his fingers laced with Alex’s and that’s enough comfort for a little while, but then she mentions her apartment complex. He still lets his eyes close, though one is kept half-lidded to watch her, head shaking slowly. “My place. Frankie knows how to get into your building, and I doubt she’s happy with me at the moment.” 

So he replaces her address with his own. Easy enough fix.

-

Alex’s fingers are fidgeting. She tries to keep it to just the hand that isn’t holding his. 

She likes him too much. And she’s not even— are they even broken up? Is she so desperate for human contact that she’s doing this again, and— and his apartment, she knows how this goes, things go badly there. 

Fuck. Her head is spiraling again. She can’t spiral now. He needs her. Or— or maybe she just thinks he needs her. No one really _ needs _ her. Spiraling. Spiraling. 

There’s something caught in her throat and it tastes like guilt and bitter worthlessness. Confusion. Helplessness. It’s a hard lump to swallow. She’s shaking her head. “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t know. When we met, I didn’t know. And I— you were right about her, I guess.” It hurts. “God.” And he’d been apologizing non-stop. “We’re just…” 

Her voice is very quiet. “…We’re horrible at this, aren’t we?” She thought he was better than her. And he probably is. But they’re both just stumbling through it all. Burdened by guilt and shame. 

-

Jonas glances over to her, still awake despite everything, and manages something like laughter. It stops almost as soon as it’s started, but it was there. “Yeah. We kind of are.” He definitely is. But she’s still here, and he squeezes onto the hand he’s holding, leaned over enough to put his head on her shoulder. “And… you can’t apologize for things you didn’t know, Al. You can’t. I’m just— Thank you. For staying when I’m such a fuckin’ mess.”

-

There may be something lacking in his laugh, but it still… It hurts. But it’s the good kind. She squeezes back. “Any time, angel.”

-

The ride isn’t too long, but it at least gives him a breather before having to climb the steps to his apartment. It takes leaning on railings and a bit of help from Alex to actually get there. Once he’s unlocked the door and flicked on the lights, Jonas is shrugging off his jacket and trying to kick his boots off, only managing the first. He can get them off later, because they require actual unlacing, and he doesn’t want to bother with that right now. The next thing he does is head for the bedroom, turns on those lights, and then it’s backtracking to the bathroom because it has better lighting and he still needs to patch himself up. 

Most of his wounds are bruises or bloodied knuckles, both of which he can’t do much for. The cuts are the easiest to treat- Mike hadn’t slashed deep, so the one on his cheek is easily enough fixed with butterfly bandages and a clip of tattoo wrappings. Jonas’s chest… Yeah, that one is a fair bit bigger. That one he probably needs help with. First thing’s first, though, he needs to get out of a bloodied white shirt. It’s slow going, because he’s trying not to worsen the cut while simultaneously dealing with aches all over, but he gets there. He spots more of those dark mottled patches along his sides and stomach, which isn’t a surprise. That one idiot had tried to jab him in the kidneys. 

Shit. Okay. The cut’s bigger than he last remembered, and Jonas winces almost out of habit upon just spotting it in the middle of tossing bloody clothing aside. To be dealt with later.

-

Alex is super self-conscious here. It’s late enough - past midnight, no sunlight through the windows - that she can’t stop thinking about that night, and how desperate she was, and how thoroughly embarrassing that desperation was. _ Is. _ She’s flushed all over, fidgeting awkwardly because she’s no good at this and why is she even here if she’s just watching him take care of himself. 

After awkwardly following a few steps back from him, watching his ease dealing with his injuries - if she hadn’t seen him fight in person, that alone would be proof to his experience - he strips off his shirt and her eyes wander over tattoos and bruises and Alex can’t help but feel like she’s intruding again; a voyeur to something she wasn’t invited to see. So she steps back, goes back to the living room. Where she’ll be sleeping tonight. Safely out of temptation’s reach. ‘Cause she shouldn’t feel fucking tempted by him. Not when he’s… broken. Like he is. 

Her eyes wander the surfaces she didn’t look at last time. Lips quirk up at the mug on his coffee table. Lollipops. Makes sense, with a smoking problem, that he’d have an oral fixation - and it’s something she’d tease him about if she were in the mood to tease. Unfortunately, she’s not. Though she does sort through and pick one out for herself. A little sweetness for a pretty bitter night. 

There’s a buzzing in her pocket and she hates that it’s so similar to last time. Except now it’s Mick. Asking for details to fill out a W-2 for the employee that definitely existed before tonight. Alex can’t help with much besides his first and last name, but promises to get the rest of his info tomorrow. Man, she really needs to do something to thank Mick. A life saver. Maybe literally, who knows. 

She’s closing out her messages when she sees the missed call. Frankie. Twice now. She left messages. Alex’s hand hovers over the button. But she already knows she’s a masochist. It’s basically inevitable.

-

He’s still working on trying to see if he has big enough bandages to avoid wrapping his entire chest when he notices it. Mike hadn’t slashed deep, but he’d slashed wide, and the tip of the cut is just barely scratching out the scripture above his heart. Jonas is hit with a wave of vertigo. It- It isn’t fair. That _ isn’t fair. _ Of all the things to hit, of all the fucking possibilities, it’s… It’s that tattoo. At that moment. Like his mom is getting back at him. She wouldn’t do that, he knows she wouldn’t, but it feels too real. Too much all at once. It’ll heal over, and if he’s lucky it won’t be too noticeable. Just get through tonight. Just get through, label everything as a ‘to be dealt with later,’ and then never deal with it. Simple.

There aren’t enough bandages to actually do the job himself. So Jonas heaves a sigh, slowly pacing from the bathroom to his living room, leaning enough from behind the wall to let his voice carry in the quiet. “Al? I, uh… Need a little help here. Please.” It’s become common, now. Apologizing or being polite when he needs a hand. Mostly because he doesn’t think anyone would want to deal with him.

-

Not tonight, then. And maybe she’s a little grateful for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta admit, it was so freeing to write that 'we're horrible at this, aren't we' line. Because they really are such messes. I mean, I love them, but they both need so much therapy. Heads up to all y'all readers; this is not a healthy relationship. It's better than some, but it's by no means ideal. They both need a lot more help and stability, and they have a lot of personal issues that should be dealt with that just... aren't. But I did warn you we love some drama. Hopefully, even if you're out there facepalming over their individual stupidity, you're still enjoying reading xD  
-Turner


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

Alex slips her phone back into her back pocket, shifting the lollipop into her cheek as she walks back toward the bathroom. If he’s asking for help she can finally be useful. “Hm?” 

Jonas walks her through the whole bandaging process, and she may not be an expert but she’s trying, and she’s good at taking direction. Even if she needs a little clarification. It takes a few tries, the first too loose, then too tight, and she takes the opportunity to ask again about the whole situation at the club, speaking around the candy in her mouth; who was there, and why, and what exactly was happening. 

-

Jonas can’t quite understand what she’s saying around the lollipop she’s stolen from him. Which is both a little embarrassing and a little amusing at the same time. He’s in the middle of cleaning up the medical supplies in his bathroom when she asks again— something something fight, something something people, he doesn’t quite catch it. Mostly because of the lollipop. So after he’s put everything away, on the way toward his bedroom, he catches the stick between two fingers and puts it into his own mouth. Blue raspberry. Not his usual go-to, but then again, he ate all the butterscotch ones. But it’s better than nothing. Smoking while injured probably isn’t a good thing anyhow.

“What was that about the club?” He’s already in the doorway to his room, searching around for a pair of sweatpants while calling his question through the hall. 

-

He stole her lollipop. Alex is surprised, then her eyes narrow, following him out of the bathroom and lingering in the hallway. Sneaky bastard. But she’s smiling a little, despite herself. “You said it was a conver— no, a confrontation. About what? You said the thing about the drugs but… I don’t know. I feel like I’m…” _ stupid, _ “-missing things.” 

-

Jonas does a quick recap of everything he’s figured out in the past few weeks while changing. First the meeting with Frankie, then Alex starting to act oddly, then Logan’s threats, and finally the connection from Mike to her and back again. After that he does his best to remember the fight, but most of it is a blur of fists and color, insults and thrumming bass. Backlash from having a fight in a club, then. 

-

She’s mostly focused on listening to him - honest, she is, not just watching the way his wings shift as he moves - but the clink of a belt being undone brings her to her senses for a second and— yeah, she should turn around. As much as she’d love to watch him change, that’s— nope. Bad Alex. So she props herself against the wall in the hallway, tapping her fingers against it and missing the distraction of the lollipop. Maybe he’s not the only one with a tiny oral fixation. That always seems to show up at inopportune times. Or opportune, depending. Not tonight, though.

-

He finishes off the recap with having Alex come back to him, their moment of quiet in the storage room. “…And then you kissed me.” 

She knows the rest. He’s standing in the doorway to his bedroom, leaned in the frame of it, the lollipop twisting back and forth between his thumb and his middle finger. An odd note to end on, maybe, but it’s the truth.

-

His voice gets closer, and then he’s leaning in the doorway and she rolls onto her shoulder to face him. 

“…And then I kissed you.” She repeats, and cringes. “I’m sorry about that. …You-” she sighs, looking down at her feet and gesturing weakly. “You know how I am.” Too much. Too physical. “It’s… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I know you don’t—” _ You don’t like me like that. _ “I know my coping skills are… subpar. If they exist at all.” Fuck the pain away. Et cetera. God, that’s just… that’s bad. “There’s no excuse for it, really. Just… I dunno. Slap me or something.” Then again, knowing her… Oof. Yeah. …It’s not healthy. 

-

Jonas looks exhausted, rightfully so, but she isn’t getting off so easy. Because of— what had she called it? Needing a human blanket? Something like that. The comfort of touch. Which is another odd way of putting things. So he moves aside, motioning his head for her to come in. To lay down with him, when he actually bothers getting to sleep.

-

…And yet here he is straight up inviting her into his bed. She shoots him a skeptical look. “That can’t be a good idea.”

-

Jonas raises an eyebrow at her, and then rolls his eyes. “Does it look like I care? My entire life is one big, bad idea, Al.” 

Half right, half wrong. He takes a hold of her wrist, gentle enough to just barely tug her forward and into the room, before letting go to crawl into bed. This isn’t something he’s going to force. This isn’t something that’s supposed to be forced; he wants comfort, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make Alex do something she’s uncomfortable with. Jonas finished off the lollipop in the middle of the conversation, dropping the stick in the trash, and pauses with a lopsided grin as he glances over her hair again. “Hey,” he sticks out his tongue. Bright blue. “Matching.”

-

Of course she follows. Of course she does. She’ll just have to… to keep her hands to herself. That’s totally possible. Totally. 

Shit, he’s just… really sweet. Kind of adorable. And fuck, now she really wishes she had another lollipop ‘cause it would keep her occupied and shut her up. But sleeping with a lollipop is a recipe for disaster. 

Then again, this might already be that. 

Still, she’s climbing into—

Or she’s about to. “Oh.” She looks down at herself. Tank top. Blood-smeared jeans. Shit, she even forgot to take her pay for the night. “Can I— uh.” She gestures back to the hallway, to the bathroom. “Five minutes, I promise.” Won’t even wash her hair. Just get the blood off. 

-

Right. She’s still covered in blood. More specifically his blood, probably a mix of others if he got lucky, but he really hadn’t gotten lucky. Jonas still counts that as a technical win. Though once she’s gone, he’s back in the same place, curled up under the covers and doing his best to go to sleep. But it’s too cold, and too quiet— the same reasons he’d started those midnight rides of his. The bike is still with Mick. That’s off the table— like it wouldn’t be because he’s cut up and bruised. Only because the bike is still with Mick.

Hopefully Alex comes back sooner rather than later. 

-

It’s… not as bad. As it was. The shower is quick, thoughts lingering on his hand on her wrist and that easy smile. Blue tongue. Easier to think about that than the last time she was here. Easier to let the hot water wash away the stress of failure. He’s okay now. Close to okay. Better, at least. Even if she hadn’t done much to help, she’d tried. And that thought puts a small smile on her lips. 

She stole his clothes again. It’s a bad habit. The worse habit is the thought in the back of her mind that he’s not getting them back this time. They’re hers now. 

The spring is back in her step a bit by the time she’s done, once she’s made a half-assed attempt at brushing her teeth with her finger, her tongue still blue, which just made her smile grow wider. Making her way back into his room, her mood is lifting. Enough that she shoots a bit of a cheeky grin at his back before launching herself onto his bed—

And then remembering he’s pretty severely injured. 

“Oh god, shit, I’m—” At least she didn’t land on him, just next to him, but she’s immediately curled toward him, worrying. “I forgot you were hurt.” Her hand is on his shoulder, half apologetic and half tentative. “Are you alright?”

-

It had been more surprising than anything else, to have a human body launched at his back, though he winces when the bed moves with her weight, turning his head back to look at Alex. “Just a little jostled. ‘S fine.” Exhaustion is catching up to him, finally. Jonas is careful when he flips himself around to face her properly, tugging the blankets up over his shoulders before leaning enough to press his forehead against her own. That easy grin is still on his face, even if his eyes are closed. 

This is good. This is better than trying to deal with things alone. Sure, they’re both a little shitty at dealing with their problems, but having Alex here is just… It’s nice. Especially after everything that happened. With what he might have to deal with in the morning. The morning can wait a little while longer. 

“You’re warm.” Probably because she just took a warm shower, but still.

-

Shit. Shit, she’s blushing. Alex never blushes. Okay, no, she blushes a lot, but now isn’t the time. Douchebag. Getting his lips so close like that. How inconsiderate. 

“You know, usually in bed I’d prefer to be called _ hot _ over _ warm_; but whatever floats your boat, I guess.” The little bit of snark rolls off the tongue easily, even as she directs her eyes away from— no, she really can’t. Not with him that close. She wants to focus on his bandages, or something, something to remind herself that he’s injured, but his lips are _ right there. _ So she closes her eyes, too. 

This is harder than she’d expected.

-

There’s a huffing noise that comes out of him, “Al, leave me alone. I’m tired, half the shit I’m gonna say from here until I fall asleep isn’t gonna make sense.” Or it’s going to have absolutely no filter, something Jonas had become painfully aware of after pulling more than a few all-nighters in college and high school respectively. “Besides. You’re the one who somehow forgot I got beat to crap in the time it took you to go and shower.”

Which means he’d gotten jostled around a whole lot. But it’s fine, no harm no foul, so Jonas just reaches out to take Alex’s hand again. To tangle their fingers together and squeeze softly.

-

_ Yeah, well you were the one being distractingly cute. _

And now he’s holding her hand. Alex sighs. Opens her eyes. And then she says fuck it, ’cause he knows how she is, she may as well come clean. 

“Okay angel, turn around. You’re being too cute. Can’t stand looking at your adorable beat-up face.”

-

Jonas wants to bite something back at her, but there isn’t a point in it. So instead he just cracks an eye open enough to roll it at Alex, barely letting go of her hand to twist back around and put his back toward her. 

“I’m not adorable. I am beat up, but I’m not adorable.” And then quieter, mutters, “You’re adorable.”

-

His grumbling, Alex feels, only serves to prove her point. She lets out a soft huff of laughter, absently tracing the top of his wings where they peek out over the covers. “Hell yeah I am,” she murmurs happily, leaning in to rest her forehead against his shoulder as her fingers work over his back. 

They’re quiet for a couple minutes, breathing slowing, and it’s easier not to wrap herself around him when she’s got something to do, something to look at, a repetitive pattern to trace so delicately, almost hypnotically. Her breath fans out across his skin in a soft sigh. The words are very quiet when she finally speaks, almost a hum. “I love this one,” she follows the edges of the tattoo over and over. Angel wings. Angel. _ Her _ angel. 

-

He isn’t quite awake, but he isn’t quite asleep either, head tipping back as best it can so that he can have some assurance that Alex won’t move. Her tracing fingers are soothing, slow, and it’s making unconsciousness seem like a pretty good idea right about now. But then Jonas hears her words. Not sure on their meaning, with his face half pressed against the pillows, it’s easy to mistake them for something else.

“Closer.” Jonas’s arm has to bend at an odd angle to press a hand near the small of her back, near dragging her across the little bit of space that was left until he can feel Alex’s torso hit his spine. Once he’s sure that again she won’t move, he curls up as best he can with her. Repeats the words he thought he heard back again. “I love you.”

-

Alex’s breath catches for a second as Jonas pulls her closer, a half smile on her face at his easy way of moving her even when he’s as injured as he is. But her face goes blank with his next words.

That’s a… that’s a friendly thing. They've never even fucked, never been romantic, there's no _way_ he could mean anything other than… Right? That’s like a… a _ friend _ love. Yeah. 

…

If he wanted heat, he’s got it, ‘cause Alex is flushed from head to toe. 

It’s stupid. She tells people she loves them all the time, casually. Hell, half her calls to Ren end with 'love you, bye.' She even says it to people she’s dating, like it's no big deal. It’s easy. But things feel bigger with Jonas. Things are heavier with him. _Harder_. Too busy trying not to fuck things up. 

_ Too busy catching feelings. _

Sleep doesn’t come easy. She’s rarely tired this early, and she’s too worried about accidentally knocking a cut or a bruise or somehow hurting him. It’s dumb, ‘cause she knows he’s tough enough, he can handle an accidental nudge, but still. She’s not used to feeling… responsible. And that’s how she feels right now. Like it’s her job, this time around, to make sure he’s okay instead of the other way around. 

Her phone is going off in the other room, a faint pattern of buzzing. And then she thinks of Frankie, and of the knife that’s been sitting between her ribs ever since Frankie left her alone at the club. Jonas’s story had laid it out for her, or started to. She’d been used. Manipulated. 

The knife twists, wrenching her chest open. They must think she’s the stupidest patsy alive. That she’d believe any of their bullshit. That she’d been so blind to everything. Willfully ignorant. 

The doubt is closing in. The frenzy of negative thought buzzing in the darkness at the corners of her mind. _ Stupid. Useless. Easy. _ She’s so easy. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Once she’s hooked, she’s hooked. And Frankie could just drag her around, wrapped around her finger, so eager to please.

Now isn’t the time for this. _ Never _ is the time for this. Can’t face it. Can’t think about it. She’s supposed to be the strong one tonight. 

But Jonas is asleep. 

So she lets herself break a little bit. 

Alex is shaking a little, trembling, but the tears are kept to a minimum at least. Holding her breath and keeping quiet, pressing her ear to his back, letting the sound of his breath, his heart, his blood, all drown out the distant sound of whoever’s calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was originally much longer, but I decided to chop the chapter into two smaller chapters, since each beat was pretty distinct. Anyway… FEELINGS. xD  
-Turner


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a disclaimer: we know nothing about law. Please accept that there's no possible way we could know the legal recourse of the events of chapter 18, we do our best, and are writing more in the style of a CW drama than a hard-hitting realistic fiction. -.-' Relax, accept the inaccuracies, enjoy the rest if you can. We are not taking constructive criticism at this time re:realism, but appreciate the thought. ^^  
-T

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

Jonas isn’t sure how long it’s been since he passed out, but when sunlight finally hits his face, his brain starts banging pots and pans together so that he can wake up. Which isn’t really pleasing. Though upon checking his phone, it’s after noon. “Fuck.”

He starts to get up, and then remembers with a pained gasp, oh yeah. He got absolutely pummeled last night. Which means he needs pain medicine. Also probably a lot more sleep, but mostly pain medicine. Jonas glances back in the middle of his path to the door, spotting Alex still in the same place, breath even and slow. But she doesn’t look as good as he thinks she should. Puffy eyes, curled up tight like something might hit her. Maybe something did hit her— just not physically. It’s enough to make him turn around and settle beside the bed for just another few minutes. 

“Thanks, Al.” He doesn’t sound the best, but she can’t hear him, so it doesn’t really matter. “For everything.”

Picking himself back up off of the ground is harder than getting onto it, though he manages, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead before actually getting to work on both pain relief and a meal. The first bit is easy; he keeps painkillers in his bathroom cabinet, and he pops two tablets so that he can actually function, then heads for the kitchen. Sweets. Definitely a morning (an afternoon, rather) for sweets. Which means Jonas is making chocolate chip muffins, because he’s an adult and he can do what he wants. Preheating the oven will warm up the apartment a bit, but that’s fine.

Eggs, milk, chocolate chips— whisk. Where the hell is the whisk?

-

It wasn’t exactly a restful night. Too scared, too anxious, not wanting to move in case she woke him. But at least she slept. Might’ve taken a couple hours to get there, but she did it in the end. And then she’d slept. For… ages. Still feels tired when she wakes up, though. So much for feeling better after a breakdown. Then again, the breakdown isn’t really over yet, is it? Those problems are still very much present. 

When Alex finally stirs, she’s sore. Which makes no sense, ‘cause _ she _ wasn’t the one beaten to a pulp last night. But forcing herself still, tensing to keep all the panic from spilling out, that must’ve done it. And she’s dry. Dehydrated. A headache is forming even though she barely drank at all last night. 

And Jonas is gone. 

She knows he hasn’t gone far, but it’s not his absence that hurts. It’s that guilt again. That she should be the one taking care of him, and yet he’s doing it all on his own anyway. ‘Cause she’s useless. 

Alex groans, rolling over onto her front and hiding her face from the sun. Too early. Too early for guilt. Any time is too early for guilt. Guilt fuckin’ sucks. 

She wants to put on a happy face. She really really does. But there’s too much weighing on her. Leaving Jonas’s bed means facing the world, and facing Frankie, and facing the complete uncertainty of whatever’s happening in her life right now. Jonas had made a point last night; Frankie knows how to get into her apartment. Even if she doesn’t have a key, it’s been made clear that that’s unlikely to stop someone with ties to a car theft operation. And if Alex has a target painted on her back now… then that means home isn’t safe. Which is— would be— _ should _ be terrifying, because Alex _ needs _ safe. Except… Except she _ is _ safe. With Jonas. 

Jonas. Who needs an alibi. And she needs to be the go-between. It’s the least she can do. 

So Alex pulls herself up and out of bed with a noise like a death rattle, joints cracking and head aching and rubbing at eyes that itch. Her arms wrap around her middle, holding on to something, as she sluggishly pads out of the bedroom. She has a task. She’s going to do that task, because she needs to do _ something _ for him. Even if that means she has to face the threat of whatever else will come with today. 

“Morning.” Alex winces at her own voice, how hoarse it sounds, like she’s been choking on knives all night. 

-

Jonas is in the middle of pouring batter into a cupcake tray when Alex comes shuffling into the living room, pausing in the task to look over at her with a quiet kind of smile. “Shit. Hoping I’d catch you still asleep.” They both need it. “Looks like that’s off the table, though.” 

The mixing bowl and spatula he’s been using are placed off to the side, and he snags a handful of chocolate chips from the bag, eating two or three every so often as he starts another cup of coffee. He already has another mug out, but it would’ve been cold if he left it out for her while she was asleep, which means pouring it fresh is a better idea. Jonas’s own is already half empty, and when it shifts Alex can see just how much creamer and sugar he’s put into it. It really is a sweets kind of morning. 

He isn’t thinking when he passes the mug over the counter, followed by milk, creamer and sugar, having to lean so that he can comb his less floury hand through her hair. He’s got batter smeared on his face.

-

Alex attempts a smile. It’s a little bittersweet. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

She takes the offered mug, glancing up at him, leaning into his hand as he touches her, and her smile becomes a little more genuine as she loads her coffee up to match, shooting him a playfully accusatory look. “Fellow sugar addict, I see.” Not that she has coffee very often. Cheaper to stick to water. But if it’s on offer, she’ll take all the cream and sugar. 

She slurps at it a bit, carefully, but it’s not _ too _ hot. Still, she cradles it between her hands and blows on it softly. More out of habit than assuming it will do anything. Her eyes wander his side of the counter. Making… something. Cake? Weird choice, but she’s not complaining. “Can I help?”

-

“I’ve got it.” Jonas ruffles her hair up a bit before he turns back around to pick up the mixing bowl and spatula again, topping off all the little cups. It’s more than enough for two people, but he still has to load them up with chocolate chips. “Nearly finished anyhow. And besides: you helped me last night, Alex. The least I can do is make breakfast for you.”

Even if she’s proven she has the absolute weirdest taste in food he’s ever seen with that peanut butter french toast combo. Seriously, where did she even get that idea from? Was she just going around trying weird things and seeing what worked? He snags another few chocolate chips to snack on, more because this is taking a while, and he’s hungry. They still have to bake. Ugh. Effort.

-

There’s literally no reason for this to hurt. Why does it hurt? Oh right: useless. Again. Her eyes flick away, holding the mug close to her chest. “Come on, Jonas.” It’s not a whine. There’s at least an attempt to be joking, or casual, even if her voice is quieter than usual. “Please. Let me help.” Give her _ something _ to do that’s useful. 

-

He pauses at her tone, glancing over one shoulder to actually make sure she’s okay. Because that sounds like Alex, sure, but it’s also… off. He’s heard her like that before, and it didn’t end well. But he’s better about hiding that than she is. So he motions her to come around the counter and into the kitchen, pulling down another cupcake pan and flicking the bag of chocolate chips. 

“Haven’t put those in yet, and I have some extra batter. Wanna go ahead and see how far we can stretch this thing?”

-

Alex doesn’t exactly _ light up_, but it’s pretty close. She smiles, her steps a little lighter as she moves into the kitchen, setting aside her mug and washing her hands before coming up alongside to help. “Hell yeah.” 

It’s kinda silly, but it’s nice to feel helpful. Even if she ends up overfilling the first well because she wasn’t exactly expecting the flow rate on that, and then going a little chip-happy on top. But he is too, so… fair. She’s sneaking a loose chip into her mouth when she surreptitiously shoots a glance at Jonas and grins. A cut on one cheek and a smear of batter on the other. Alex grabs him by the chin. “You’ve got—” she laughs, brushing her thumb over his uninjured cheek and popping it into her mouth. “That-” Bleh. She pulls a face, but it’s entertained. “Not cake batter.” 

-

“_Muffin _ batter. Did you really think I was making cakes for breakfast?” Jonas is laughing at her, but it’s good-natured, as he keeps sprinkling chocolate chips into the already poured batter even if his chin is still in her hands. This is nice. Ironically domestic, and his mind is going places that aren’t terrible but aren’t ideas he should be having, but nice nonetheless. He’s slow to pull his face away from her, leaning enough to nudge their foreheads together before he does, dropping another chocolate chip into his mouth with a hum. “Not that it’s a bad idea.”

-

Shit. He’s cute. How is he hot and cute. Both. Both of the things. “It’s an _ excellent _ idea,” she teases, though she’s quick to get out of his space again. But she’s been brightened, at least. “So how long on the not-cakes hot-cakes, Jojo?” She picks back up her mug, washing away the floury taste with a nice mouthful of sugar masquerading as coffee. 

Her phone is still sitting by the couch. The place she wants to keep it every time she’s here, ‘cause it keeps it as far away from her as possible. She should check it, though. “We need to get you in the system for the Island. And explain the whole— uh, the drug thing, for them.” Fuck, she’s lucky they got out of that last night. 

-

Jonas backs up enough to put both of the pans in the oven, closing it up with his foot so that he doesn’t have to bend down too far. Even with pain medicine on board, he’s still pretty roughed the hell up. Once the timer is set, he grabs his coffee again, going to sit on the couch and hopefully forget most of everything that’s happened. But then she starts asking questions. And… he’s obligated to answer them, isn’t he? About everything. All of it. From the beginning.

“The muffins are fine, Al, should take like forty five minutes or so. But,” he heaves a sigh, takes a sip from his mug. This still isn’t a conversation he wants to be having. At all. “When I was younger, back in North Valley, I ran with the crew doing things for the chop shop they had. GTA, hotwiring, whatever they needed I did. Frankie was dating Mike - the guy running it all - and had a drug hustling thing on the side. After I left, I dunno what happened, but it looks like that’s become one of their main sources of income.”

-

“Yeah. Um… Frankie told me some… stuff.” Alex glances nervously to her phone before settling on the arm of the couch, taking another long sip. “I don’t… I mean, I don’t know how much is true. Now.” Now that she knows Frankie is probably the least trustworthy person in her life. Which— which still hurts. It’s still fresh. 

“She mentioned—” What was it? “B&E, GTA, and— assault. I think. _ Violent assault and battery. _ Were the words she used.” Alex is mostly watching her hands on her mug, though she does glance over at Jonas, trying to read his expression. “But that was before.” Before _ something. _ She doesn’t know what. Whatever made him leave. “I know that’s not—” Alex adjusts her legs, turning toward him and slipping her feet under his thigh, wiggling her toes a little. “I know that’s not who you are now. I know that.” 

-

Yup. Okay. Frankie told her… a lot. No details, because otherwise Alex probably wouldn’t even be here right now, but she knows the gist of it. Jonas holds harder onto his cup, careful not to break it, staring at the dregs of coffee and sugar as they swirl around. When she worms her feet underneath his leg, he leans over to put his head on her knees, trying to come to terms with two images. Two people that others spot when he’s around. Alex’s angel, and his own twisted up shadow.

“I’m not gonna justify it. There isn’t a way to justify that— It’s… I was fucked in the head for a while. A long while. People had to drag me out of it.” And after all of that, she still has the heart to trust him. After Frankie and her stories, after the fight, after seeing firsthand what he can do, Alex is still here. She still thinks he’s something. “I’m guessing she told you how it started? The first _ violent assault and battery, _ I guess you can call it. When I beat another kid half to death. Just spiraled from there. I fell in with the wrong people, got worse, didn’t get diagnosed with a certain brand of kleptomania until I managed to get out. Yeah. Fun times.”

-

It’s an absentminded gesture, freeing a hand to run through his hair when he leans against her. Sipping her drink with the other. Patiently listening, scratching against his scalp. She feels like she should say something. Share… something. 

No, not just _ something_. Share about Michael. 

But that’s her secret. That’s something she hasn’t told anyone since she left Camena. Things are easier when no one knows. They may think she’s a little crazy, but she’s not a murderer. 

Alex slides down the side of the couch, bringing the rest of her body to her knees instead of the other way around, and presses her lips to his cheek before tilting to rest her head against his. “I’m sorry, angel. It wasn’t her story to tell.” She hesitates for a second, but then she’s doing it again. At least it’s just his cheek. Kissing him. “We all have our regrets,” she murmurs against his skin. There’s a pause, and she sighs, draws away a couple inches.

-

There’s a kind of perfect moment in his head, from both the situation and what Alex is talking about, but it’s not possible right now. It’d come across as wrong. As something else. So he doesn’t take the chance, shaking his head with a sad kind of smile. “Everyone tells it anyways. They just leave out the part that my mom was dying and I went looking for a reason to get hurt.” 

It’s the truth. The painful, painful truth. People talk about the troubled teen in North Valley who’d go to war over anything, who’d fight for the sake of fighting, someone that wasn’t him. Because they didn’t see the rest of it. Jonas had ended up in that dangerous territory of single opinions, of single stories, and it had nearly destroyed him. It certainly destroyed his sense of self.

He gets an arm around her, tucks Alex as close as he can, breathes. “Still do, sometimes. Just with a punching bag rather than a person.”

-

Looking for a reason to get hurt.

…Yup. Sounds familiar. 

Her weak huff of laughter breaks over his skin, hand still in his hair, and she’s both disappointed and proud of herself. Disappointed she’s still letting herself stay so close, but proud in that very weird way that she’s holding herself back. She shifts as he pulls her closer, and that that pride slips to nerves, just waiting to make a mistake, mouth tucked against his neck. “Punching bag would probably be better for me.” Another sigh, and she traps her lips between teeth to keep from doing something she’ll regret. 

More of that masochism. That good closeness, that pain that she can’t take it further. Standard at this point. She just keeps touching him, combing through his hair, breathing against his skin, and finally convinces herself to pull back. “You should teach me.” Could be a lot healthier. Probably. “I mean— once you’re not all bruised up.”

-

“Yeah, once I don’t look like a sack of potatoes just kind of fell on top of me.” Jonas manages something like humor, but he’s being serious when he offers up his next words. “I’d be happy to teach you, though. I already have a few friends taking lessons from me in return for different favors. Theo’s doing it because she got me out of some shit a long while back. Theodosia, I mean— I think I mentioned her once before.” 

Theo, his lawyer, who’s only _lawyer_-ing for him because she has her own private firm now and he managed to convince her that he wasn’t going to pull some stupid shit for at least two more years. _ Sorry about that, Theo. _ Looks like he broke his promise. Or at least, a little bit of it. Jonas reaches up enough to put a hand on her cheek, the pads of his fingers skirting over Alex’s jawline as he lets his eyes close again— though not before putting his now empty mug onto the coffee table in front of them. Don’t want to drop that.

-

“Sack of potatoes is modest. I’d go with about five guys and a knife.” She’s trying to pull away. But he’s touching her, and it feels good, and… One more breath. 

Finally, she untangles herself from around him, careful to keep her mostly-finished coffee from spilling as she slides back over the leather and wiggles her toes under his leg again. “You teach me boxing. I’ll teach you dancing,” she smiles, almost a smirk, ‘cause she’s too aware how bad she did leading him the first time. “Or someone on the internet can, and I’ll be a supportive follow.” 

There’s only a couple swallows of coffee - well, cafe latte - left, and she drains it quick. “But first you need to put in a call to the Island, and I need to get back to my apartment and get some clothes.”

-

Oh god. He’s trading dance lessons for boxing lessons. Way to go, Jonas, just… amazing. ‘Fake studying’ is an understatement now. Though when she mentions going to her apartment again, he frowns a bit, head shaking. “You know I’m not letting you go back there alone, right? Not when Frankie and the crew are on the loose. Sure, I’m beat to a pulp, but I can still take someone out.” _ Probably. _

Putting in a call to the Island will be easy. Maybe a bit odd, considering he’s now working for both the bar and the club in his area, but it’s not like he can avoid it. Either putting in a W-2 or potentially getting jailed again. He’d much prefer the first one.

-

In the end, it’s decided that Alex is definitely not willing to put Jonas in danger by having him escort her to her apartment (and he’s not willing to put _ her _ in danger by letting her go alone) so Alex will just have to put off getting fresh clothes until… eventually. When they know her place is safe, maybe. …Or hopefully before, ‘cause Alex doesn’t know when that will be, and while she doesn’t mind wearing Jonas’s clothes (even if that means going without underwear; really, it’s not like she hasn’t done it before), it’s probably best not to. 

The muffins are ready, so Alex (happily, feeling useful) pulls them from the oven and gets them cooling before slicing one open to cool faster for her own breakfast. …Lunch.

In the meantime, Alex hands her phone over to Jonas, using the little thumbprint thing instead of a pass code now, and pointedly avoids checking her messages, just pulls up Mick’s number and puts it in Jonas’s hands.

-

After getting off his own phone from a surreptitious assurance to Logan that he hadn’t actually gotten that hurt (he’s downplaying it a whole lot, but Logan worries; it’s a habit that started ever since they dated), Jonas gets a hold of Alex’s phone and one of the muffins. Which means he’s finally eating. Though the pain meds are starting to plateau, which isn’t fun, and he kind of just wants to lay down. Preferably holding Alex.

But he’s not going to ask. In the middle of getting up to actually go and grab said muffin, he finds Alex in the kitchen, doing the unholy work of the devil. “Oh. My God. Mayo on a muffin? Al— you disgust me.”

-

“Hush. My tastes are second to none.” But she’s grinning with a bit of an edge, ‘cause maybe some small part of her takes joy in how people react to some of her more unusual flavor combos. Blame a childhood of food dares and competing with Michael to make the weirdest choices and - more importantly - _ follow through _ with them. Some had been winners, some had been losers, and some had been sheerly to make her mom squirm. Mayo on muffins was one that stuck because it just tastes better. The tanginess and the sweet and salty; it’s just a good way to moisten up a muffin. 

The call to Mick is less about employment and more about logisctics. It’s not exactly a job that’s being offered. It’s an alibi. He’s not going to be working hours at the Island - or probably won’t be - but he’ll be excused for beating the shit out of some armed and violent customers. Or that will be the story, anyway. After a brief explanation of the whole situation, things have come to a not-fully-satisfying ‘no charges pressed’ resolution. No club really wants to be known for dealing drugs, or busting them. Neither is appealing. So no mention of that will get back to the police. Just the fight.

-

Still better than prison time. Jonas talks with Mick for a bit longer than is probably needed, both because he’s checking on his bike and because he’s apparently set up to work if he wants once he’s healed (which— he has no idea how she did that so quickly, but he’s not complaining), before he switches back to his own phone to warn Daniel about what happened. That’s a harder conversation to get through than the original job offer, which is kind of surprising. Daniel is more worried about how badly he’s hurt than the events of the fight, or what got him into it, though he still gets chewed out a fair amount by the other man. Plus Reggie, when Daniel actually lets him on the line. After checking in with Logan, wondering if he’s okay, if the act worked— thank God, he is. 

Which means he and Alex are now under a self-inflicted house arrest for a few days. Not terrible, but… things are going to be hard to avoid when he’s under the same roof as her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Chrismukkah! Sorry for the wait. Things have been slower for us on the writing front and this piece has taken a backseat to [BHRJ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074483) and [CJGJ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815224) at the moment (finally bridged to that 50 page chunk we wrote ages ago, so that means another however many completed chapters for BHRJ. Also I learned how to solve a rubik's cube for CJGJ. …We have fun in this little hamturn corner of the internet.  
-T


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhhhhhhh warnings up top for hints of physical stuff under the influence. Not much, but just a heads up.

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO**

The problem with having to kill time on her day off when she’s _ not _ at her apartment, and can’t leave the house, is that Alex’s computer is still at her place. And while she’s happy to fuck around on her phone for a few hours, it’s not exactly the same. Ideally, she’d be out making money right now, or - as the sun gets lower in the sky - maybe crashing in bed, watching a movie with—

_ Ow. _ Right. 

She’s been spoiled for too long. Delivery dinners, a HBO account she doesn’t pay for… Lots of bonuses to having Frankie as a girlfriend that went beyond just the (also very appealing) daily sex and generous physical affections. 

“I’m bored.” She announces at long last, rather than start thinking of a heart that’s on the sore-to-broken spectrum. 

-

Jonas gets back from pacing the hallway and dealing with a whole lot of random encounters to find Alex bored. Which probably isn’t an entirely good thing. Alex can get a little stir-crazy, he knows that for a fact, and having her sprint around his apartment wouldn’t be the ideal scenario. “Mmm… cure for boredom. Okay.”

Going back to sleep is an option, but that might just be him, considering he’s just taken pain medicine again and is ready to be drowsy. Doesn’t own any board games - and those are called bored games for a reason - but he does have a whole bunch of DVDs and a player. Old, considering he also has a Netflix subscription, but sometimes he watches classics that aren’t always available online. And then he remembers the old game he and his few-to-far-between college friends would play.

“Princess Bride drinking game.” He’s smiling when he pulls out the DVD case and turns on the TV, heading over to the kitchen just after to grab two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. Not his usual, but Alex’s favorite. “Take a drink every time Westley comes on screen, ‘as you wish’ is said, ‘rodents of unusual size’ is said— there are more, but we’ll get to those later.”

-

She’d gotten interested as soon as his attention was back on her, but at that suggestion—

“You had me at Princess Bride.” Alex launches herself to bounce into a prone position on the couch. “And then again at drinking game.” Rolling over to keep an eye on him as he exits the kitchen, she grins. “And _ again _ at tequila!” This is a doomed night. As good as she is at holding her liquor, Alex has her doubts. But that’s fine. She’ll just have to cheat. No biggie. She’s more excited about seeing the elusive drunk!Jonas. It will happen. And she will no longer be the only one who’s been completely hammered in front of the other. Excellent. 

Cheating in a drinking game, especially when they’re going for straight liquor is all about angles and short pours (and redirecting attention back to the movie when she’s inevitably going to be caught cheating or whining about not wanting to drink). The right angle to fake drinking and pass it off as real, and pouring short enough to take far less than the loosely mandated ‘drink’; cheating will be easy. 

What she’s worried about it her own self control once she’s been drinking. It’s something she’ll just have to watch herself for. It’s probably impossible to control _ every _ little urge, but she can focus on just keeping her face as far from his as possible. Alex’s mouth is Alex’s mouth and won’t be on any non-Alex’s mouth. That will have to do. 

* * *

“I veto your rules.” The movie has barely begun and already, according to Jonas’s proposed rules, Alex would’ve had a shot for two instances of _ true love _ , a couple interruptions from baby Fred Savage, and several _ as you wish_-es. She snagged the more decorative of the two shot glasses, ‘cause she’s gonna need all the distractive coloring she can get to cheat effectively, but still. “Sip. Sipping. I refuse to shoot all of these, unless you want me dead.” 

-

“You veto nothing, woman. We’ll just tweak a little bit, how about that? You can sip, because you’re a lightweight heathen, and I’ll also sip in the interest of fairness.” The point of the game in college was to get fucking wasted. Why else would they have been taking shots so often? Usually he and whomever else decided to play couldn’t get through a third of the movie before people started passing out.

-

“I am _ not _ a lightweight— how dare. How _ dare, _ Jonas.” Even if she’s cheating. Alex grins. So he’s planning on getting shitfaced? Is _ this _ the time to use the phrase _ turnabout’s fair play? _ Feels like it. She’s owed some embarrassing moments from Jonas after everything he’s seen of her. He’s got a few minutes before the alcohol starts to hit, but he’ll get there soon enough. Shaking her head, Alex reaches for the bottle to fill her glass again. “Nah. I sip, you gulp. You’re like a tall boi, you have the capacity for, like, 40% more tequila than I do.” 

Westley and Buttercup are kissing before he goes off to fake-die, and Alex cocks her head at the screen. “Who do you think does foley for that? How does _ that _ work?”

-

“Don’t have the answers for that one.” Nor does he really want to think about the answers as to who makes kissing sound so good on screen. Mostly because there’s no point to it, and that’s another drink, since Alex is vetoing it for herself but not him. Definitely going to do something stupid. Maybe not, if he can drill it into his brain fast enough before all the alcohol hits, but if he doesn’t… Yeah that isn’t going to end well. “Go look it up if you’re actually curious, I’m just here to watch a classic. And also maybe get hammered in the process, but that’s a me problem.”

Hopefully just a Jonas problem. Hopefully. 

-

“Pffft.” The noise is as much a sigh as a mockery of scorn. “With how much Frankie’s calling? Yeah, not going near that thing, thanks.” When Buttercup states mournfully that she’ll never love again, Alex snorts. “Dramatic bitch.” But also, like… “Same.” Even when there’s a lull in the frequency of drinks, Alex continues chattering to the screen. 

-

“Are you saying ‘same’ as in you’re a dramatic bitch, or ‘same’ as in you’re never gonna love again?” That phrase makes him think of two things. The stupid lyrics (_I’m never gonna dance again…_) and also the fact that he now has absolutely no chance. Frankie is still fresh on her mind, which means if Jonas tries anything… No. That’d just be wrong. That’d be like taking advantage of her. Which isn’t how he’s going to do things. Not after all that Alex has been through in the past few weeks. “Or both, both is always an option.”

-

Alex snorts. “Well, when you put it that way…” Her smile is a little bitter, but just as good-humored. She shrugs. “I mean I like to _ think _ I’m pretty drama-free, but— I mean, now I’ve got some gang potentially targeting me over my sexpot girlfriend using me as a drug mule, so…” God. It doesn’t even sound real. As for the rest of it… “I dunno. I love too much. Honestly I’m not even sure I know what _ love _ is.” She can blame that little confession on the alcohol, and she does, waving her hand dismissively. “I dunno. Ignore me,” she laughs, “I’m a mess. You dodged a bullet here.” Another slip of the tongue that she waves off, eyes back to the movie. “Are we drinking on Humperdinck?”

-

Jonas raises an eyebrow at her words, more concerned for her second statement than the first, though she’d told him to ignore it… “May as well, if you wanna see me wasted as some kind of cruel payback for when I literally carried you home. Not like it’s gonna change much in the long run.” 

-

“I do, but you’re wounded and I don’t think I could carry your dead drunk body even if I were completely sober. So let’s not.”

-

Another few minutes of movie pass in silence, with the occasional jab at one or the other for skipping something or trying to mimic the actors, he speaks up again. It’s quiet, barely heard above the actors blaring through the TV speakers. “I don’t think anyone knows what love is, really. Just kind of happens to people. Can’t stop it.”

-

Even if she’s not drinking at every possible cue, Alex is particularly keen on the rhyming. As soon as they get there, she’s parroting the lines word for word, Jonas’s comments lost as she quickly covers up her flubbed lines. A few prods to drink at the rhymes (and she’s drinking too, ready to forget all thoughts of Frankie in favor of a movie for the ages, her grin a little silly), and then- “_Inconceivable! _ Drink!”

She’s like a kid, lost in the movie, remembering watching it over and over again with Michael whenever they caught it on TV. Used to play a sort of rhyming game, too. Those were good times. Her smile is playful but sincere, eyes bright with the alcohol and the sheer joy of it, a kind of snickering delight. 

_ “Of all the necks on this boat, Highness, the one you should be worrying about is your own.” _

“She has a nice neck,” Alex concedes, evaluating it. “God, how are both of the leads so hot in this?” she muses in a murmur. Even quieter, absently, she adds, “…Necks are good. I like necks.” Then laughs again. She may be very slightly tipsy. A little past tipsy, even. 

-

Jonas isn’t quite sure how much of that is just Alex, and how much of that is alcohol. Probably a hefty mixture of both, but that isn’t his place to ask about. Even if he’s loose-lipped and too warm. At least he’s been following orders about drinking— for now. It’s added up to a few shots of tequila already, and has him pretty buzzed, which will undoubtedly lead to some stupid choices.

“I think they cast most of these people either because they were funny or they were attractive, Al. Though focusing on necks…” He makes a noncommittal noise, then continues, “…that seems like kind of a weird thing.”

-

“I mean, I guess…” It’s still just an absent thought, because Alex knows what’s coming up and it’s one of her favorite parts. “—Inconceivable! That’s another!” They’re only, what, ten minutes in? Yeah, this is a top-heavy kind of drinking game. They’re gonna be really fuckin’ sick at this rate, that’s not gonna be fun. But also—

“Dun-dun-_ dahhhh__!_” She grins as their villainous trio (well, a villain and two gold-hearted fighters-for-hire) turn only to find an ooky spooky mysterious ship on their tail. “Spooktacular.” Alex shoots Jonas a goofy grin, but then— “Yes!” Her eyes snap back to the screen. _ Eel-infested waters. _ “Oh Jesus, the eels. God, this part scared me so much as a kid, I love it.” Still loves a good spook. 

The jokes she’s heard over and over again shouldn’t still make her laugh, but they do. Why bother being ashamed, really? It’s a fun movie. Fun memories. And—

It’s a noise of expectation, quickly repeated, growing in excitement. Finally it becomes a kind of sadistic glee, practically bouncing up and down as the noises get louder. “_The shrieking eels!_” She’s not quite with the dialogue, but almost, and she devolves into a mockery of evil laughter. 

_ “They always grow louder when they're about to feed on human flesh!” _

“Ohhoohoo, spooky!” God, she loves these stupid monsters. She practically snorts at Vizzini’s promise that _ no harm will come to you_\- “Yeah, except your death. Teeny tiny bit of harm there,” she jibes. And finally, the creatures are visible. “Damn, though! Those teeth!” Alex isn’t clapping, but she would be if she didn’t have a shot glass in her hand. “Oh right- drink!” She’s about to fill her glass, then the eels are snapping at Buttercup, and— “Those fuckin’ _ teeth_, man, _ yes!_” A good scary monster. Excellent. 10/10 would terrify small child again. 

And then the fuckin’ grandpa interrupts. “Does that count?” Generally the rule is only for the kid interrupting, but maybe. She glances to Jonas, still flush from the tequila and her own boundless enthusiasm for these particular movie monsters. 

-

He’d stopped focusing on the movie a long time ago, because it isn’t often he just gets… this. Alex happy, and probably more than a little punch-drunk, but happy nonetheless. So he’s been staring at her when she finally looks his way, which is just — he should really try to hide that better, fuck — so he does his best to swap back around to the movie and forget everything he wants to say. Everything he wants to do. Which is much harder with a good few too many ounces of tequila on board. 

“Only the kid counted years ago, and so only the kid will count now. General rule of thumb.” Also might be trying to avoid some potential mistakes. A lot of potential mistakes. “And, secondary query, because now you’re making me think about it; what the hell is it with you and teeth and necks? Got a thing for bites or something?”

Jonas shouldn’t have said that. But hell, there he goes and says it anyways, like an idiot.

-

Alex’s lips hook into a smirk without a second thought. “I dunno, wanna find out?” 

Yeah, nope, that’s getting blamed on drunkenness. Definitely blaming that one. Because, welp. That’d be a yes from her, dawg. The thought itself makes a bit of a choked _ snrk _ noise come from her, even if she’s blushing more than she’d expected to as she quickly looks back to the screen.

-

“What?” _What? _ What the fuck was that, she— Okay. Nope. Reading too far into that. Way too far into that. Just gonna pass that up.

Even if he’s still babbling like a fool about it. Ugh. Shut up, please, shutting up would be the better option than just sitting there with a shot glass halfway to his mouth. So at the very next opportunity, he knocks it back, probably faster than needed. Jonas looks like a tomato.

-

Alex kinda wants to slap herself in the face. Not in a mean way, just in a kind of _ come to your senses _ way. But also, he’s getting flustered and it’s funny. Instead, she just laughs a little too uproariously. “Oh my god— joke, angel, it’s a joke.” She’s probably pretty red, too. Feels like it, anyway. She still can’t stop herself, “But, I mean…” The words hang for a second, suggestively, before she’s giggling again. And then there’s another interruption from the kid - another drink - and Alex rolls her eyes at baby Fred Savage. “Ohmigod, shut up you little bitch.” 

-

Alex has never heard Jonas giggle up until now. He snorts a bit at the start, mostly because he’s trying to keep it under his breath, but it’s a distraction from whatever just happened. Definitely not going to jump down that rabbit hole until he’s absolutely sure it wasn’t an inebriation thing. Even if he’s there along with her, leaning his head back enough to roll it over and look at Alex again. It’s the way the light catches her, he thinks. That makes him want to stare. The domestic part of it is nice, too, but mostly how her eyes reflect the screen; the little grin on her face whenever a good bit of dialogue comes up. “Baby Fred Savage, little bitch supreme, all because he interrupted his grandad. Jesus, Al.”

-

Alex nudges him with her foot, grinning. “He’s getting in the way of teeth, Jojo. Hence: li’l bitch who can’t take the heat.” She’s snickering at his own particular brand of glee. “You’re adorable,” she teases, reaching out a hand to ruffle his hair. “Big scary roughed-up boi, giggling like a schoolgirl.”

-

Absentmindedly, Jonas leans into it, making a contented kind of noise before one of his eyebrows raises. “Am I actually that scary? I mean, I know I was when I ran with Mike and the others, but that was years ago.” And he tried to tone himself back from all of that as soon as he’d gotten out. The more distance, the better. 

Yet here he is. Acting like a literal puppy.

-

He seems to be enjoying it - or something to that effect - so she keeps up her little scratching motion as she sips. “Haven’t we already talked about this?” she muses, though it’s a kind of affectionate playful tone. “I don’t think you’re some kind of monster, Jonas. You’ve never hurt me. I mean— if anything, the whole ‘taking down a bunch of punks singlehanded’ bit is freakishly hot.” It’s said with a casual offhandedness before her hand slips down to tickle behind his ear like she would with a real dog. “Chin up, Scamp,” she grins teasingly.

-

Jonas doesn’t yank himself away, but he ducks a bit when she goes to scratch behind his ear, eyes rolling at her statement. “And now you went and ruined it, Al, good job. I just wanted some head pats and suddenly you’re pulling a _ Lady and the Tramp _ on me.” That’s… actually kind of a good analogy for this whole thing. Except there’s no real lady, and they’re both idiot tramps. Not that he was going to deny it. 

-

“You callin’ me a tramp, Jonas?” It’s only a mock accusation, and she can’t even school the smirk off her face. “I mean, maybe a little bit, but still. Save the name calling for the bedroom.” He’s ducked his head out of arm’s reach, so instead she kicks at him again, redirecting at the last moment when she remembers he’s still got some nasty bruising from the night before. 

-

The next words he mumbles are directed at himself, rather than at her, “_I will become what I deserve, _ right?”

-

Alex can’t quite hear his mumbling, but she spots his - pardon the phrase - _ hangdog _ expression. “You’re not allowed to be sad tonight,” she proclaims with an air of authority. “This is _ Alex is barred from her own apartment and on the rebound post sudden and unexpected breakup_, okay?” Rebound? No, not rebound. “On the mend.” It’s phrased like an addition rather than a correction. “Same for you.” Yup. Two broken people, focused on having a fuckin’ laugh. And maybe getting plastered. 

-

“Y’know, I was talking more about myself, but-” Instinct kicks in when Alex kicks out at him, and he grabs her ankle hard enough to tug her back a bit, before letting go right after. “Shit. Sorry. Habit.” Especially since Michael had kicked him in the face as he’d run. 

-

Alex squeaks happily as she’s tugged along the couch a couple inches, shirt riding up a bit with the sudden trip. “Not complaining! No complaints from me.” Her giggle slips to a snicker. “Jonas: I’m the one who begged you to hoist me, you think I'm mad at a little manhandling? On the contrary—” And then she remembers to shut up. Loose links sink… friendships? 

-

Jonas does his best to forget about Mike for the moment, instead adjusting position so that he can put his head against Alex to watch the rest of the movie. If she isn’t going to allow sadness, he can at least do that for her. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Just keep getting drunk— he’s rarely ever a sad drunk. More of a stupid ‘hey check out how high I can lift this thing’ drunk.

-

…And then she’s extra glad she stopped talking because his head is resting against her, neck-to-hip, and his hair is soft and she has no clue what to do with her hands… “Head pats,” she mutters, a little pink, each word punctuated by the action. 

Shit, she totally isn’t paying attention to the movie.

-

“_Yessssssss._” Jonas can blame this on being drunk. (It’s not just because he’s drunk, he likes head pats, is that so wrong?) He could also blame not responding to Alex’s words on being drunk, because there’s definitely more of a story behind that, but again; not his place to ask. Even if he kind of wants to know. (He really wants to know.)

By now the movie has skipped on to the banter between Westley and Inigo, but he’s less focused on it, even if he still has all of the commentary memorized. Jonas has his eyes closed as he copies the words, a half smile on his face. And then that one, single line pops up. He’s on his feet before he can help himself, because this is a really good line, and it reminds him of better times. Even if he kind of jostles Alex in the process.

“My name is Inigo Mantoya! You killed my father, prepare to _ die!_”

-

“You’re so—” Definitely drunk. Or, at the very least, _ thoroughly _buzzed. She can’t talk completely coherently ‘cause Alex is cackling, shifting up onto her knees to look around him. “Oh my god, angel, I can’t see, sit—” She grabs for his hand, swatting at it for a second in his dramatic gesturing before she can get a hold on his wrist to yank him down. 

-

He’s cackling just like she is when Alex yanks him back against the couch, though he’s careful not to fall right on top of her, even if he uses the grip she has on his wrist to pull her right back and into his lap. Because, as Jonas states, “Shush, you! It’s the good part let me live a little.”

Sure, now Alex can see, but she’s also trapped by a pair of pretty beat up arms.

-

“The whole thing is the good part,” she retorts, but isn’t about to pull out of his hold. Even if she’s on a bit of a high from the mix of tequila, sudden movement, and maybe just a tiny bit of the whole Jonas thing. Maybe just a bit of the _ strong person kinda sorta throwing her around _ thing. It’s not a Jonas thing. Nope. Just her weird attraction to people who could fuckin’ destroy her. Not just Jonas. This… makes sense. In her very odd way. 

Friends. _ Friends, Alex. _ Stop it.

Her brain isn’t totally getting all of its messages across. But hey: she’s made one promise to herself, and so far has done an excellent job of keeping her mouth an Alex-only territory. 

She’s busy enough congratulating herself on that that she doesn’t totally register settling into his arms for a moment. Not the best angle. With a slight hook to her smile, Alex grabs onto his forearms for a second as she adjusts herself in his hold, squirming and kicking a little until she’s got herself at an angle without any awkward jabby bones anywhere. 

-

“Well _ yeah _ all of it’s the good part, but this is a _ good _ part, y’know?” Yup, definitely a fair bit buzzed. Maybe more than a bit. Definitely more than a bit. Jonas wraps himself up around Alex as much as he can without hurting himself, settling his chin onto his shoulder to get a better view of the movie around her head. Mostly because now that he can actually hold onto her, he isn’t going to be letting go. At least, not until she yells at him to. _ If _ she yells at him to. “There are a lot of those in these movies. Like the Rodents of Unusual Size. Those things are funny.”

Sure, Alex might prefer the eels, but that’s her choice. Also maybe her kink, but not something to get into when he just kind of wants to… hold her. Not— not _ keep _ her, in a weird possessive way— but the physical weight is grounding comfort. Something reminding him that he’s still good. He’s not the monster from before, if a monster at all. He’s just Jonas, with her. And she’s just Alex. Which is more than he could ever ask for. 

-

He’s drunk.

She’s drunk too, but she’s a handsy drunk in a very different way than he is and she’s really really trying to be aware of that and not push boundaries. So Alex has to remind herself that he’s _ drunk _, and so is she, and that the endless parade of filth in her head needs to slow the fuck down. Even if her mind has caught on to the sensation of that tiny prickle of fresh stubble on his chin brushing at the side of her neck and seems to be having a field day. Can’t exactly jump his bones, nor can she just straight up bluescreen right now. But she can feel his breath on her skin and the soft vibration of his chest against her back when he speaks, and they both smell like tequila, and—

The words at least snap her out of it a bit. Alex rolls her eyes. “Yes, I am aware of the R.O.U.S-es, you do not need to point out the best person-in-a-suit gag in the universe, my brother and I watched this like four times a summer.” It’s a good thing she’s drunk, or that fact might hurt a little. “I probably know it better than you,” she jabs a finger back into his ribs before remembering the fight. “Oh shit, sorry.” She chokes on a laugh. “Didn’t mean to— you okay?”

-

Jonas is going to ask something about the brother comment, because he’s pretty sure Alex had said she never had siblings, but the intent is lost when she pokes him. It isn’t hard enough to make him lose his breath, even if it definitely hits one of the bigger bruises, and he grits his teeth at the too-dull-too-sharp ache that spreads over his torso. “Ow. Fuck. Ow ow. Fine.”

Mostly fine, anyways. Even if he’s squeezing Alex maybe a little harder than he needs to, eyes closed like he can force away the heat in the back of his head, the alcohol making him go softer than he actually is when Jonas does his best to settle further into the couch and drag Miss Caribbean Blue along with him. A kind of payback for the whole stabbing a blunt wound thing. He’s given up on counting drinks, though they’re coming in less rapid succession now, which gives him time to press his face into Alex’s neck and avoid the movie. He’d stopped focusing on that a while ago, and the fight is over anyways. Just waiting for the next favorite part out of many, now.

-

Alex’s lips have split into a grin at the dry tone of his voice - that moment of defeated acceptance, really - and is about to coo some mocking platitude, but he holds her a little tighter and she lets out another delighted squeak and feels the happy little shiver going through her. _ Bad Alex. No. _ But she’s flushed pink from tip to toe and has to remind herself herself this is not what he signed up for, and that all those stupid little comments, little innuendos, and definitely - most _ definitely _\- the noises she’s just barely swallowing, are not something he should be subjected to. 

She’s chewing her lips, a mix of excitement and nerves and too much guilt for how much she’s been drinking, when he pulls her back and has his face buried beside her hair and one tiny little whimper slips from her. 

Yeah, no, she has a problem. 

Oh. He’s going to hate her for this, isn’t he? 

_ No fuckin’ boundaries, Alex. Have you no dignity. _ (No, the answer is no, she does not, at least when it comes to her libido - this is a blessing and a curse, and in this case it feels like the latter.) 

She clears her throat, like she can cover up the far-too-wanting sound, and thanks god and Rob Reiner for the moment Andre the Giant goes unconscious. “Knock-out or death. That’s another.” Like she could possibly think about the game right now.

-

“Yeah.” Jonas’s voice is absentminded for a number of reasons. He’s just thought about the position he’s put himself in, with Alex’s back pressed against his chest, whatever amount of skin there may be (it isn’t much, but it’s enough), and the noise she just made. It’s still ringing through his ears, a quiet, tantalizing kind of thing, but he can’t… he just can’t. For so many reasons. Reasons he could ignore, blame it on the alcohol, and then feel like shit for it, but that goes against morals he’s had since he was a kid. Don’t try things people aren’t comfortable with. Don’t read into things more than you have to. So many little rules he’s come up with, and all of them apply now.

Alex uses sex to cope. That doesn’t mean that’s the only thing she has in mind, he can’t see her motivations, but she’s just broken up with Frankie - the vindictive bitch - and just earlier in the night she’d called it a bit of a rebound. Jonas doesn’t feel used, they haven’t even done anything, but he feels something. He just doesn’t know how to describe it. A loss of self worth? Pity on his own part, for her? Intangible. Odd.

He wants so many things he can’t have. So, so many things that would be wrong in the moment, or taken in a different direction, unneeded and unwanted. It doesn’t make sense, in his fogged over brain. Ignoring this would be easy, he can just focus on the movie, just try to create a distraction for himself. But that isn’t the point.

Jonas just keeps resigning himself, in the quiet of the air around them, head tipping downward to just barely brush his lips against the dip where Alex’s neck meets her collarbone. 

(_Guilty guilty guilty._)

-

Goosebumps spread from the spot his lips touch. Little pings, synapses firing, light up Alex’s brain and the nerves across her skin and she has to hold her breath. She’s… responsive. Sensitive, maybe. To him. 

Anyone, she reminds herself. Not just Jonas. She’d be like this with anyone.

_ …Feels _ like a Jonas thing, though. 

She’s not entirely sure when her hand started to move, but then fingers are sliding over his shoulder, up the nape of his neck and into his hair, and she’s not quite holding him to her, resisting the urge to tangle and tug and just rubbing soft circles into his scalp. 

Alex is finding it more and more difficult to divide her attention, hard to keep track of all the things she’s trying not to do. Focused on controlling her fingers, she lets her hips shift in some mix of nervousness and excitement, adjusting her position in his lap, muscles tense in her lower back, her thighs, her bare skin brushing the fabric of his clothes. The motion bumps her neck against his mouth again and she bites at her lip to keep from saying anything too damning. 

Her head is a mess of contradictory thoughts and desires. She wants to kiss him, but she can’t, so her eyes skirt away and she turns her face from his, but that just serves to send another shiver through her as she feels the stretch in her neck, like she’s way too close to offering an opportunity to prove her potential biting fetish. She wants to laugh it off somehow. To joke, to tease, to let them settle back into their odd comfortable casual flirtation. On her part, anyway. 

Honesty. She’s been so much happier when she’s honest and forthright. 

But honest and forthright could lose her this. 

…No. No, she should say something. Should tell him how she feels. If she can even figure that out. 

But she’s hardly away from Frankie. How much is just rebound? 

_ Tell him. Tell him you’re confused. _

All of a sudden, a brief beautiful crystalline moment of clarity presents the concept of _ friends with benefits_. The casual intimacy that could allow. Friendship. Fucking. Both of the good things, none of the pressure of dates and monogamy and _ planning a future. _ A platonic sexual relationship. He’s done hookups before, she knows that. It’s not _ entirely _ out of the question. And if they can have both… the idea is enough to let her relax a second. Long enough for her brain to try to recall what exactly is supposed to be happening.

“Jonas. Tequila?” If they’re going to do that shot, they’re gonna need their glasses and the booze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Anyway, so this is happening now. XD Thots?


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [a heads up that this chapter includes consent under the influence, so let that be considered] [also okay it maybe kiiiiiinda straddles the M/E line, but uhhh well, the real E-rated stuff deserves a separate post so uh… look out for that in the next couple weeks maybe]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Oh shut up. We're weak. I'M weak.  
-T

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/190358955745/holy-spirits-the-jonalex-bartender-au-so)

** CHAPTER TWENTY THREE **

“Jonas. Tequila?” 

-

He’s been too focused on a lot of things. The fingers curling through his hair, her shifting around in his lap - which is hard to ignore, granted, but he could be doing a far better job of it - when Alex starts talking again. Of course they’re still in the middle of that drinking game (and the movie), but he kind of… wants to stop. Not for hate of the situation, that’s fine, but because he’s definitely going to do something really fucking stupid really fucking soon. Which means his mind is going to latch onto it. Which means he’ll end up in a pit of self loathing.

And Alex ordered him not to be sad, so he’s got to avoid being sad. Or avoid being an idiot, which causes being sad, but he’s already failed at that one.

Jonas just shakes his head a bit, and tucks his chin up onto her shoulder again. “You’re closer to the table now. If you just _ have _ to see me absolutely sloshed, I’ll keep going, but I don’t exactly have my sharpest wits about me anymore.” 

He’s trying to joke, and it falls flat, because it’s true. A big part of his brain really wants to keep going. Really _ really _ wants to keep going. A smaller bit of it is slamming down on the breaks for the entire situation. He’s working in extremes now, either stop or keep going, let go or hold on tighter, kiss her or pull away. It’s annoying when this happens. When he can’t figure himself out, much less read cues from other people, and everything ends up an odd mesh of colors and sound and confusion. Not fun. Especially not when that mixes with drinks. Usually a smoke can level him out, but that wouldn’t be a good idea with the injuries, not to mention that Alex might yell at him for smelling like tobacco. That’s what Logan did, at least. Along with his last girlfriend. She hated that smell, couldn’t stand it. Said it made her sick or something.

-

“You have the bigger wingspan, angel,” she points out, jabbing her elbow back into him— _ gently, _ she’s not trying to actually hurt him. Still, she’s moving again, and it’s a good thing she’s focused on a target ‘cause otherwise she’d be thinking way too much about her body shifting against his and his hands and all those lovely things she needs the alcohol to _ stop _ thinking about. 

Or maybe not. Maybe not stop thinking about. Maybe, just let that tequila work its magic and simply present the situation for what it is. 

Alex doesn’t even bother with pouring a shot, just takes a swig straight from the bottle. Doesn’t bother picking up his discarded shot glass, either. If he wants some, he’ll have to take it from her.

“So.” So. The words are running through her head, trying to make the proposition as casual as possible. _ So, uh. Hey. Dude. Wanna make out? _ Yeah this is… well. _ Let’s bang. _ Yeah no. There’s really… it feels like there’s no good way to say it. “…You think I’m attractive, right?” 

-

“…Yes?” Why was that posed as a question? “I mean— yes, I do, but where the hell did that come from?” 

They’d been talking about drinking. _ Drinking. _ Since when did Alex’s status of attractiveness come into play in that equation? Jonas still manages to wince slightly when she jabs him, but the ache is forgotten quickly, bowled over by warmth and just so much confusion. Confusion is a huge state of mind currently. She had no reason to ask him that - other than the rebound thing, in which case he isn’t exactly about to refuse - but again. Pesky morals are really just keeping him from doing a whole lot of things at the moment. 

And she still has the bottle. Okay, well, that’s a thing now. Jonas can’t bring himself to roll his eyes, but he’s easy enough in prying it from her grip, taking a swig before leaning around Alex’s side to put it back on the table.

-

Her head feels kind of tight and warm, a little wobbly around the edges. She stops trying to stop trying. Let it go. Honesty. Honesty solves everything. Words. 

“_Sooo_,” her tone implies he could really be putting it together by now, but just in case he hasn’t - Alex turns toward him, her legs tangling a moment before they’re hooked over the side of his. Slipping an arm around his neck, she tilts her head back and forth, deciding how exactly to phrase this, but the motion is not such a good idea. Pulling a slightly amused face as she winces and lets her head settle back to equilibrium, she goes on with a slightly crooked smile. “Assuming that _ attractive _ equates to _ attracted_…” 

He started this, right? Wait, no. Wait, did she? No, he’s the one who was kissing her neck. And this - well, it doesn’t _ have _ to be…

“I mean, and I’m _ obviously _ attracted to _ you…_” She’s still meandering around the crux of the matter. Fingers slide up his chest, carefully. “And we’re friends. Right? Good friends. And I trust you not to be a dick in bed—” Alex cuts herself off, snorting at the word choice. “Wait, that’s,” she laughs again. “You know what I mean. You’re not gonna hurt me. And we’d both be chill just… letting each other know. Y’know? Like. Not try to impress each other. And if things aren’t working we just… stop. No hard feelings. No feelings. Friendings. Freelings. Friend-feelings.” Her sentiments have dissolved a bit. She’s pretty sure she made her point? Maybe not. Her free hand hooks a finger into the collar of his shirt, eyes narrowed at it as she tries to check off the points she’s just made. Yeah. Yeah, that probably made sense.

-

That has to be the most roundabout way he’s ever heard someone say _‘hey, we’re both hot, you wanna fuck for the sake of fucking?’_ Jonas has ever heard. But hey, it got the point across, hadn’t it? Even if his mind is still in a little bit of limbo, tumbling words over and over each other, trying to figure out exactly what she means. He knows - really, he does - he just has to… process? Is that the right word? Think about it? Struggle with it? Certainly won’t be much of a struggle, Alex has basically wrapped it all up into a neat little bow. 

Jonas’s eyes follow her fingers as they move, and it definitely looks like he’s considering it, but there’s something stopping him. He actually likes her. Not— not even just like, he _ loves _ her. He loves Alex. 

That’s gonna be a fucking problem, shit. A really, really big problem.

Okay. So, two choices. Break his own heart, still get something out of everything, try to forget whenever they’re both said and done with each other. Or, go on being a useless pining mess, and try not to deal with the whole ‘said and done’ bit in the first place. Alex is the one propositioning him, yes, but he’s probably the one that even brought this up. With the whole kissing thing. And the cuddling thing. All the things. So many things, too many things, why is he thinking things so much holy shit he might have had too much to drink. 

“That… was really fucking confusing, not gonna lie, but— Okay.”

-

“Okay?” It takes a second for the word to register, but then Alex brightens, some (maybe slightly goofy) self-satisfaction in her grin. “Okay!” So that— so this is happening? This whole ‘let’s just hook up, go for it’ Hail Mary actually worked? She’s practically beaming. “Okay ‘okay’— that’s—” That’s good. That’s— well, fuckin’ _ finally_. Alex was steeling herself for another rejection, but apparently not? It’s like champagne fizzing tiny bubbles under her skin, a giddy kind of delight. 

Her head is a bit of a jumble of thoughts, but her first instinct it to just— well, just kiss him. So she does. The finger hooked into his collar pulls him to meet her halfway, avoiding the cut side of his face, eyelids falling closed as she touches her nose to his cheek. A happy little hum slips from her throat before she’s pressing lips to his. It’s a relatively chaste gesture. A starting point. And quickly she pulls away, fingers covering his mouth as she straightens. “Oh! Rules. We should have rules.” Yes. Those are important.

She shifts in his lap again, trying to be gentle as she maneuvers herself to face him fully, one leg around his hips while the other is folded up, foot wedged under his thigh. “Honesty. We have to be honest. None of that relationship crap where you’re guessing what they like. If you don’t like something, you don’t have to do it. If you want something, you say it.” That feels like a solid way to run things. She keeps babbling, eyes narrowed in concentration and a kind of authoritative pride in her voice. “No suffering in silence. And no taking things personally. If something isn’t working, it isn’t working, we fix it. And we stay friends. The whole time. If there’s no chemistry, fine, we stop. Any time. We can stop and just never bring it up again. But no unfriending. Got it?” 

-

Okay that’s— that’s just so much whiplash within roughly the span of a minute. Honest… Well, Jonas can sure as hell do his best, but the whole actually being in love with her thing is definitely going to stay a secret for an undetermined amount of time before the whole thing actually starts. If this_ is _ a thing. Should he even be thinking about it as a thing? Yeah, sure fuck it, it’s a thing. It’s a thing and Alex is basically stating a whole lot of terms and conditions, but she was just kissing him, and…

Yeah nope fuck it. She’s close, and he’s still trying to sort out the whole ‘suffering in silence’ bit, so may as well just put all his chips down. Jonas reaches up to tangle one of his hands in her hair, pushing her head just enough to get back to kissing, because _ terms of service _ isn’t exactly on his list of things to do right now. 

Alex is.

** _Whoah-kay _ ** that’s a thought. That is— most definitely a thought. A really really feverish and really really wanting thought. One that he should probably dial down a bit. Maybe. Maybe not. Do something with, anyways.

-

Welp, there’s a switch. The noise is a lot like that first whimper when he first had his face to her neck, a too-pleasant shiver going down her spine, but the sound is lost between his lips. She’s practically breathless, the words a rushed murmur as she pulls back a fraction of an inch: “Taking that as a yes, th-” But they’re kissing again. And god, she’s happy for that. As much as she’s willing to take the lead, she’s pretty useless once someone has a hold on her hair, and she’s plenty happy to just… be led. 

He tastes like tequila, and for a brief moment she wonders what he tastes like sober, but is too quickly distracted. She’s still holding herself close to him with the arm hooked round his neck, but the hand that had been so casually brushed away from his mouth (which - fair, she prefers this activity, too) traces a thumb over his jaw before sliding into his hair as well, with the same little motions she’d made earlier that he seemed to like. 

-

It was definitely a yes. Jonas is more than happy to lean his head a bit into her hands, but the noise she’d made was… pleasant, he’d call it pleasant— and that can probably be manipulated to happen more often if he presses the right buttons. If she doesn’t like it, he’ll stop before shit starts to go badly. Alex had been the one to set down that ground rule in the first place. Even if that’s just a general rule, considering it’s too early after Frankie, and he doesn’t want to hurt her even more. That might kill him.

So. Noises. That’d happened when he squeezed her before, and when he’d kissed her neck, which gives the impression he should probably do that more often. He tucks an arm around her waist, mostly to tug Alex closer, then winds the hand still buried in her hair closer to her scalp so that he can start to pull. It’s barely any pressure, at the start, but with a stronger grip he could tug her anywhere he wants. That’s good. That’s really good.

-

Okay— _ yes, please, thank you. _ (She’s so much more polite in this kind of situation. Sometimes. Occasionally after some less polite behavior.) 

Alex’s teeth tug at his lip - mostly by accident, though she doesn’t exactly regret it - as she pulls against his hold, back arching in an exaggerated echo of the arm pulling her waist closer. Good. Good pressure.

“You-” She pulls back for a second, chewing on her own lip with a soft little noise of exertion as she tries to untangle her leg from his lap to fix her position. “Good instincts, angel;” she murmurs, “A-plus; do approve.” It takes too long but then she’s got both shins on the couch, a little more sturdily straddling him. 

-

More like a lucky guess. He’s a little proud of himself for that, though it isn’t so much congratulatory as it is finding an even bigger button than the original. And the fact that he didn’t just royally fuck up another relationship of his, because Jonas has been doing that a whole lot lately.

“Trial and error, Al.” Most of the girls he’d hooked up and/or gone out with liked the idea of a pissed off bad boy. “Trial and error.”

There’s a kind of lopsided smirk on his face, good-natured and nearly soft, if it wasn’t for the appraising look in his eyes. Jonas could listen to her forever; so, so entertaining. 

-

“I support this decision.” It’s a slightly teasing look as Alex smiles back, their lips meeting again for a brief moment. “More of that.” It’s kinda… nice. To just feel comfortable straight up telling him. Not trying to gently nudge a partner in the right direction. And then be frustrated when they don’t totally get it. Not that she assumes he’ll just Get It, either. But it’s nice to know - or think, at least - that he won’t take it personally if she _ does _ need to just… _ show _him. 

Distantly she’s still vaguely aware that there’s places she really can’t touch at the moment because wounds, but he’s a… robust kind of guy. Tough. Regardless, she’s still keeping most of her weight on her own knees, giving her that little bit of leverage - a couple extra inches of height on him - as she presses closer. Not as tight as she wants, but… it’s a necessary sacrifice. Even as her mind starts to ignite with ideas and curiosities that she really would do better to set aside for now. Not get too ahead of herself.

-

Jonas rolls his eyes a bit at her, though he’s more than happy to tug harder on locks of hair, able to gradually curve her head back so that he can trail kisses down her neck. There was the whole fixation on the eels earlier, and she’d invited him to find out… She can only blame herself for this one. Though he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t say it’s more than a bit pleasing Alex has become so pliable. Button pushing is fun in a number of ways— especially when it leads to consequences like this.

“As you wish.” His words are muttered against skin, lifting his head only to go biting at her pulse point, not quite hard enough to leave anything more than a shadow of a bruise. He’s still being careful after Frankie, or after whatever he’d done to hurt Alex, because that wasn’t an outcome he’d wanted. So skirt away from focusing on himself. Focus on her. On how she moves, how she breathes, the noises she makes. Simple enough.

-

Sucking in a tight breath through her grin as he tugs on her hair, Alex is half lost. Sensations can be overwhelming, and she’s all too eager to be overwhelmed at the moment, even if she wants so much more. Her imagination is already working on that for her, though. Always has had an overactive imagination when it suits her (and occasionally when it doesn’t). And currently it’s busy lighting up signals up and down her skin, leveling up her sensitivity, sparking anticipatory pinpricks to the point that she can’t help the subtle gyration in her hips. Hell, it’s at least slightly more dignified than just grinding on him.

Jonas’s words make her start to laugh - or maybe snicker is a better word for it - but his bite shifts the noise midway to a shuddering little whine, choking on her breath. “Fuck-” And it’s not like Frankie’s stupid half-assed nibbles, either. Frankie never left evidence. Refused to. Jonas, though… Damn, she’s into it. It’s like the pain shoots straight into her veins like a drug, tightening her hold on him, turning her face toward him, breath stirring against his ear. “Fuck yes— mark me, angel.” It’s not a plea, and not quite a demand, but it is something hungry and a little bit desperate. 

-

Jonas probably shouldn’t be snickering, but he is, because this just confirms what he’s been thinking since… well, since he met her, pretty much. Maybe a little bit after that. Alex definitely has a thing for pain (probably only a little, and he’s sure as hell not gonna push that until she asks), and _ most _ definitely has a thing for bites. And now he can’t help but think back to the first minutes of the movie, where she’d gotten so excited over a certain kind of monster, and it’s just— It’s cruel really, when he pulls away and sits himself up with a wicked grin on his face.

“They always grow louder when they’re about to feast on human flesh—” Oh he’s definitely rubbing it in a bit. Jonas has the right to, anyways, for her making him nearly choke on his drink. “Don’t they, Alex?”

-

Alex groans as he pulls away, mostly in disappointment but then he quotes the movie and— “Asshole. You’re lucky you’re all bruised up, or I’d be pummeling you for that.” She’s grinning though. Smirking, maybe. Blushing a little. “Also: not vore, dumbass,” she teases, hands slipping down, drumming forefingers against his collarbone. “We set boundaries here. Just ‘cause I like a good bruise doesn’t mean I’m into breaking skin.” The quirk to her lips is devilish. “Just having a souvenir.” 

Her eyes flit over his features, and there’s that familiar little tug in her gut at his smile. That pride that she gets to see such a thing, that she can make such a thing happen. It’s stupid. …Feels good, though. 

“What about you?” She adjusts herself in his lap, tone pointedly casual even as she slides closer. “Should I avoid returning the favor? In case it gives your clients the wrong idea?” Sliding her grip up she kneads into his shoulders for a second. “Or do you have some other secret kink?” It’s playful but not mean-spirited. “No judgment zone, doll. This is supposed to be a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

-

Jonas snorts at her a bit, “A souvenir, yeah, okay Al—” And then she starts busting out the nicknames. “Since when am I doll? Since when has that _ ever _ been an idea in your brain? I mean I get Jo-Jo, but _ doll? _ C’mon, you can do better than that.”

He probably shouldn’t be saying that. Alex can definitely do better than that, with how he froze up the first few times he’d got called ‘angel.’ Which had been a whole hell of a lot. She hasn’t really found any of his ticks, if he even has any he knows about, other than the hair thing. But that’s just because he likes the comfort. God he’s vanilla. Alex is definitely not vanilla. That’s going to be an experience. The entire thing is an experience - one he’s had before, yes - but it feels new with her. Better, if that’s a possibility. 

-

Alex just grins. This is a challenge, and one she fully intends to take advantage of, even if it won’t necessarily be right this second. Hon, doll, babe, dude, bro - they’re all the same. If he wants something _ different, _though, she can get more creative. Some other time. Right now her head is a little too fuzzy for that.

-

Jonas is still smiling when he speaks again, drumming the fingers of his free hand along the skin of her thigh. “As far as a secret kink goes, I’m afraid you’re gonna be disappointed. Don’t have much in the ways of lust as a sin.” Has some wrath, though. “Unlike you, Miss Blue C.”

-

“Miss Blue Sea?” She cocks an eyebrow. “That’s cute.” Her tone is light even as her eyes narrow, watching his expression carefully as she begins a subtle movement of her hips, a barely noticeable undulation. “I bet you do,” she argues to his earlier point. “I mean, it may not lift my luggage but if you wanna give me a pedicure, I’m not gonna complain. Friendship with double benefits.” She’s not quite grinding on him at this point, her upper half steady and unreacting, like she’s not even aware of the very obvious effects of her motions. “Triple if you count the food,” she muses. 

-

“Curaçao, Alex. Blue Curaçao.” C as in the letter, and Jesus Christ she’s gonna keep digging until she finds something she likes, isn’t she? 

-

Her smile has that slightly sharp edge, but… _ Blue Curaçao. _ It’s kind of sunny, too. Lit up. It’s a nickname she definitely likes. (It’s a liquor she likes, too, in the right drink.) “What, not the full AMF?” she jokes. But no. It’s good. 

-

Jonas rolls his eyes a bit at her, and he’s easy in tugging her hair again, enough to get her attention and angle her head back toward him. Because he’s definitely putting that little trigger to good use, now that he’s figured it out. “And you know why I make you food, because you need to actually _ eat. _ And not just ramen with the ‘vague taste of protein.’” He’s using her words against herself, seeing as that’s the best kind of argument. Though Jonas’s other hand drifts enough for his fingers to dig in on her hip bone, holding her in place, “And stop moving so much, you’re squirrelly enough as it is, woman.”

-

Alex’s teeth close on the tip of her tongue between grinning lips as he pulls at her hair, and she arches her back once more, eyes going hooded with the little rush it gives her. Her pressure increases, the too-teasing friction not quite scratching her _ own _ itch either. She accepts his lecture with a noncommittal hum, more focused on— well, on a different source of protein, to be blatantly crass about it. The thought nearly has her snickering again, but then his hand is on her hip and she really likes that tone on him. 

Not enough to actually obey it, though. “Make me,” she grins. 

-

This is a conversation Jonas has had before. One of his eyebrows raises, though the rest of his face is schooled into something more serious when he drops the hand in her hair and gets a completely different idea. With the right amount of leverage… Yeah, that should work. He has to twist a bit, and he won’t admit how much his arms are screaming at him to stop when he maneuvers her so that he can - God, Jonas wants to snicker, but he can’t afford it - _ hoist _ her up enough so that the tips of her toes just barely touch leather.

“I will toss you off of this couch, Curaçao, don’t you doubt me.”

-

As much as Alex’s first instinct it to struggle and squirm and make everything as difficult as possible for him, even drunk she’s aware of his injuries (and is way too happy letting him manhandle her) to do anything that might hurt him. Still, she squeaks in mock complaint, unable to stop her grin. “I have no doubts, tiger,” she protests the assumption. “Not a single one-” She quickly bites back the sarcastic _ buddy _ she was about to tag on to the end of her statement, gaze flicking to the bruising visible on the arm hooked under her knees. Yes, okay, she feels a little guilty. But also _ it’s fun, okay,_ she just likes it. Can’t exactly deny that. 

-

Okay he really wants to drop her on her ass. He’s definitely going to feel guilty about it within two seconds, but it’s tempting. So he does it anyways. Jonas is careful about the edge of the coffee table, and as soon as Alex is on the ground, he leans over her to grab a lollipop from the mug. Because now his arms hurt, and he wants sweets, so sue him. It’s a cherry flavored one, too. Second best kind next to butterscotch. “Whoops. Looks like my arms went out, oh nooooo, what have I done. I’m too injured to go on, my frail body will collapse under the strain of the world!” He’s nearly cackling by the time he’s finished the sentence, rolling the candy around in his mouth before allowing himself to fall back onto the couch. That had actually hurt a whole fuckton. Shit. Ow.

-

“What the fuck!” But Alex is cracking up. It didn’t really hurt. Not much, not really. She’s had worse tripping up the stairs. 

He reaches for a lollipop and the idea hits her again as she snorts, pulling herself up on her elbows. “Okay— _ okay, _ Mr. no-kinks,” she smirks, cocking her head sideways and raising her eyebrows. 

-

“What?” Speaking around the lollipop is kind of annoying, but he doesn’t want to hold it, and that was kind of the point of these things anyways. “I told you I’d drop you, therefore I did. Just keeping up my end of the bargain.” He wants to ask if she’s okay - because seriously, he does feel bad - but that’d break the ruse of being an asshole. Which, rightfully so, Jonas can sometimes be a huge asshole. Even if he doesn’t completely understand her meaning at the moment.

-

Her grin is sharp as she sits up more. “_I have not a single drop of lust in me,_” she mocks. “_Not my sin, BC, just being hot as fuck. Never even think about sex._” Pulling herself onto her knees, she turns to face him more fully on the couch. “Liar.” The accusation is casual, sliding her hands onto his knees. “You smoke. You keep a whole fuckin’ thing of lollipops in your living room.” Gradually her hands are moving up his thighs as she meets his eyes with a satisfied smirk. “_You _ have an oral fixation.” The exaggerated lewd movements of her mouth are only half joking. She does, however, stop herself (just barely, ugh) before she’s touching anything… vital. “I mean… same.” 

-

Well. That went in a direction. The worst part is she’s not entirely wrong (she’s not wrong at all, in fact), and that’s treading into some dangerous territory. Jonas goes a little stiff at her touch, and he’s quiet in weighing his options— neither of which are bad, just… one is more appealing than the other at the moment. Finally he takes the lollipop out of his mouth, leaning down to her level, tongue between his teeth before he starts to speak. “Wow, Al, nice job. You’ve discovered my deepest, darkest secret. However will I recover from this blow to my ego you have dealt?”

Jonas sounds too pleased with the situation for the quip to really land, twisting the candy between two fingers. It’d kept his mouth busy for a while, but now he’s preoccupied with other things. Other thoughts. 

-

Alex chastises herself a little for backing away a couple inches as he leans toward her, but then her chin is up in a determined look, that crooked smile a bit too genuine for the wicked thoughts in her head. Her brows raise innocently as her head drifts sideways, unflinching eye contact as she tongues at the forgotten lollipop while he speaks.

“…I mean I can think of a few ways,” she shrugs. “If your ego needs stroking…” It’s not exactly a challenge. Kind of is, though. She’s the one who established rules. That they’d say what they wanted. “Look, angel, as much as I love a good _in-your-endo,_ we said we’d be honest, right?”

-

Honest as he can get. It still hurts, a bit, knowing this is supposedly just hookups without strings attached. No unfriending or whatever, sure, but still. Jonas wants more than just some occasional friends-with-benefits thing. If it’s the best he’ll get, he’ll take it… just preferably with fewer intrusive thoughts that seem a whole lot less_ intrusive _ now that he has an excuse to actually act on them. Even if Alex doesn’t really know how he feels. Even if he can mask that really well. 

It’s fine. Think about it later.

“I certainly wouldn’t be opposed, Curaçao, and you’ve made most of your intentions clear.” His eyes move between the lollipop, her lips, back again. That’s enticing. He pops the candy back into his mouth, grinning around it, “Crystal clear, actually, considering even though I told you not to move you just kept going. There a reason for that?”

-

“Glutton for punishment?” she suggests, casually. “Gotta say; if I were to pick a sin, it’d be up there.” Raising herself up, her fingers drum against his thighs as she leans toward him. “Now,” she’s smirking, her voice low and assertive, “-Since we’re being honest: I want something in my mouth.” Her tongue flicks out to lick at the end of the lollipop stick hanging from his mouth. “That is either going to be your tongue, your fingers, your cock— or a hell of a lot of foul language.” It’s not like she can’t babble on forever. And get creative. The only question is how much he’s willing to endure. “And _ then,_” her hands are finally slipping higher, “I’m going to want something else _ somewhere _ else, and only three of those will be acceptable.” 

-

“Gluttony and lust, then?” He isn’t moving. Of course it’s kind of a bait, considering she’s between his legs and there are a whole lot of places that can go, but Jonas knows more of her ticks than she knows of his. Which gives him a very, _ very _ distinct advantage. One of his hands skims up the back of Alex’s neck again, grabbing a fistful of that carribean blue hair tight and pulling so that her head is bent back. Doesn’t let up on the pressure when her neck is craning, either, because she can make the most entertaining expressions and Jonas practically towers over her from this angle.

-

Fingers brushing against her neck are enough to string her nerves out taught, start the goosebumps back up, but Alex meets his eyes - her own darkening considerably - and she doesn’t look away, doesn’t even try to escape before he’s got a hold on her hair again. The groan is low in her chest, every kind of wanting, and for a moment the rest of her body is pretty useless. When he tugs her head back she goes all too willingly, eyes falling shut for just a moment, reveling in a firm grip and a good stretch. 

-

“Surprised you even bother to keep count. Though, for now—” he knows he’s probably taking more risks than he should, but it’s just… so entertaining. “-I think we’ll stick with those curses, hmm?”

-

He has… a very nice voice. Very nice. And the teasing is… well. A lazy smirk curves her lips, actively making an effort to regain awareness of the rest of herself. Fingers dig into his thighs for a moment. Then she’s murmuring, matching his cockiness, every bone in her body challenging him and excitedly awaiting repercussions. 

“It’s real cute that you think I’m just gonna curse at you, dollface.” She likes this. This play. “I mean, I could. I could say a whole assortment of curse words, you could tell me ‘don’t call yourself a whore, Alex’ and I could say ‘then shut up my dirty whore mouth with your cock, so-aptly-named Jonas _ Long,_’” she goes on, not exactly mocking but certainly impertinent, “-And you could gasp, appalled, and say ‘Alex! No!’ and I could say—” there’s no way she could say this with a straight face, so she grins, “-_‘fuck me, daddy,’ _ and you could say ‘Jesus fucking Christ, I thought we agreed you’d never call me that’— Real cute. You think I’m just gonna say a few curse words.”

-

“You’re making me out to be a much more saintly man than I actually am, hon, and that’s a crime.” Jonas is practically purring his words, because Alex thinks he has less patience for theatrics when she should really know better by now. If he can deal with her suddenly tanking emotionally, any kind of erratic movement, or her getting so drunk he has to toss her over his shoulder, he can certainly deal with this. It’s almost fun. “The way I see it you have a few choices here, devil, and you can have any of them. _ If _ you don’t act a fucking fool.” 

Okay, he’ll bite. This is fun. The banter - which isn’t _ new, _ just upping an ante - Alex in general, and the fact that he’s hyper aware of every little move she makes. The curve of her mouth, the dip in her back, warmth seeping from skin to fabric to skin again for lack of somewhere else to go. He may as well indulge. The lollipop is nearly gone, which is absolutely fine, because there are a thousand other things he could be doing with his mouth that seem like far better ideas than the ones he already has. 

Jonas’s voice is sweet as honey and ten times as dark when he speaks again. “I could yank you back up onto this couch, bend you over the counter not a few feet away, or drag you back to my bedroom. Those sound interesting enough to sate your appetite?”

-

OKAY. Yes. This is yes. This is _ all kinds _ of yes, and Alex’s eyes go wide like a kid in a candy store. Her smile is practically dazzled. Delighted. “…You have excellent verb choice,” she commends, though she’s a little too excited to come off as casually teasing as she’d intended. “And _ sate_— coulda helped me back in high school English, I’ll give you that. Unfortunately, since we’re being honest here, you should know: I’m a bit insatiable.” Her smile is sharp. 

“So if we’re going all-in on this, you better expect it to go until one of us taps out. And—” her hand hovers over him, brushing her thumb against the denim of his jeans. “-If you tap out right after coming, I will be incredibly unimpressed, and might leave a bad Yelp review on your gym for poor stamina training and lack of ingenuity.” Her head cocks to the side with a grin, forgetting for a second how hard he’s holding on, and the motion tugs at her hair again, eliciting a quick breath and little hum of approval. “God— when are you gonna shut me up, angel?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. 
> 
> Anyway, I've been hyping that deleted scene that's kinda hastily removed from context, so uhhhhh missing reel should be popping up in the next couple weeks. Since I'm the smutmeister, it's my own private accomplishment and will get posted as such. I'll link to it here once it's posted, and at the beginning of the next chapter posted on here as well. xD  
-Turner
> 
> (Also, full heads up apologies for a touch of the _magical healing sex_ trope, but alcohol and adrenaline and various hormones can fuck you up so uh… *waves a hand* y'know, magic. ><)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally optional read, if you're not interested in anything too explicit. Story will resume with chapter 25, like picking up after a fade to black. But if you're curious...

[ **CHAPTER 24 {rated E}** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460416)


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one picks up exactly where the last one left off. So… in the heat of the moment, perhaps. xD

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE**

Finally, she breathes. A tiny whimper that doesn’t seem to fit in her body slips out, a tremor going through her, and then a weak huff of laughter. “Ff-” She can’t _ words _ for a second. Just breath. Then a longer, exhausted, “_Fffff._” 

At some point she’d lost awareness of her body, but now a hand comes up to press over her eyes. There’s the splitting headache. It sucks, but also is somehow immensely entertaining. Kind of satisfying, in a way. Goes along with the absolute jelly of her limbs. She’s laughing, even if her voice is hoarse. “Ffffuuucking fuck. Shit. Holy fucking hell, Jonas,” she groans, grinning. “Fuck. Didn’t realize you were so keen to impress.” Because she is. Impressed. She doesn’t rank orgasms, really, since they’re all pretty fucking great, but this would be pretty high up there.

-

“Good to know I met your expectations there, Curaçao.” 

-

“Mmmhm.” She’s got a rueful grin as she peeks through her fingers, squinting at him. “Top marks. A+ fuckin’, my dude.”

-

Jonas raises an eyebrow at her, even if he’s clearly trying not to laugh. “That was terrible. That was— so terrible, oh my god, you’re a terrible bedmate.”

-

“I dunno, I mean, pretty sure you were into it,” she murmurs tiredly, toes curling in a little stretch. “At least, like…” she puts on a mockingly innocent voice; “When your cock was in my mouth I’m _ pretty _ sure you weren’t complaining?” 

-

He really wants to get back at her. Cuff her over the ear or something, but he’s laughing, and ow. Ow, fuck, okay. Pain is back. Pain is very much back now. 

-

Her eyes go wide, suddenly remembering that— shit, _ whoops. _

Still, she’s laughing. “Jesus, angel— I— wait, this is _ your fault! _ I was totally trying to go easy on you and you— you were the one being an overachiever!” She’s snickering, but there’s a little real anxiety under there as well. He’s legitimately wounded, after all.

-

“I’m not gonna argue your fault/my fault whatever— _ shhhhiiiiiit._”

-

Too much movement reminds her - yep, he’s still just chillin' out inside her - and she bites her lip. “Uh. Should we… I mean… cleanup?” Or cuddling? Or— hell, she’d be happy to lay here for a bit (get an aspirin or something), but if they’re doing the whole wham-bam-thankyou-ma’am thing, she’s not sure how much basking in the afterglow becomes too relationship-y. Then again, they’re kinda just ribbing each other. That feels _ friend _ enough. 

-

He offers up something like a shrug, because they should probably be cleaning up, but he doesn’t want to move anymore. Mostly due to the pain, though he’d be lying to himself if he said some of it wasn’t Alex. It’d almost be nice, if not for the circumstances.

-

Alex’s lips purse, but she’s not particularly good at hiding her smile. She does, however, grind her hips a little, and it’s— there’s another little noise from her, ‘cause she’s a little— well, _ sensitive, _ at the moment. “Might want to do something about that.” She could be tempted into another go, though. Maybe. Or— the headache spikes and she winces. Or maybe not. Her eyes close and she leans into him a bit, voice low and not particularly urgent, a kind of teasing, mocking murmur. “Or we can stay twined in the throes of post-coital bliss.”

-

_ Post-coital bliss. _ Seriously. Jonas is snickering, quiet more for the sake of not rattling his bones and causing more pain than for trying to avoid noise, eyes rolling. “You can decide. I’m more than happy to just lay here for a while. Or get up and get aspirin, ‘cause that’s another option I’m willing to take.”

-

“My world has been rocked. It is your fault. I’d love to punish you by making you get up and fetch me painkillers, but you are still a poor broken baby and that’s not fair.”

-

“…And now I need to spite you, look what you did.” Ruined a perfectly good moment with that one. 

-

“Spite me, or spank me? ‘Cause like…”

-

He’s going to get back at her at some point. Maybe. Possibly. Whatever. Jonas has to resist the urge to roll his eyes again - that marks two times in one minute, new record - as he starts to shift away from her. 

-

Alex’s moan as he slips from between her legs is only half hyperbole, still flushed tip to— well, to tit. She’s got that devilish smile, though. “I mean, what was it— you punish whatever kind of…” she waves a hand vaguely. “Angel things. You know what I’m getting at.” It’s closer to a grin, even if it’s kind of tired. “Don’t make me think right now, doll, I’m busy feeling _ blessed_.” She kinda snorts at that, though. 

-

“Not trying to make you think,” Jonas heaves a sigh at her, leaning over enough to press a kiss against her temple before he actually gets out of bed. First order of business: pain killers. Second order of business is getting Alex a glass of water, and then cleaning himself up, because he has a bad habit of smoking after sex which is probably going to come into play at some point. “Trying to get aspirin.”

-

It’s cute, the little kiss. Cute. …Kinda endearing. And kinda— 

No feelings. Friend-ings. Freelings. They’d established this. Friends and sex and nothing else. 

Which is why, instead of letting her insides go all melty, she just nudges him with her foot as he turns away from the bed. “Nice ass, sweetcheeks.” 

-

He doesn’t grace her with a response. Instead he trudges over to the bathroom, downs two pills, and fills up a cup of water for her despite Alex’s stupid comment. It’s… it’s so stupid, holy shit. As he sets it down on the bedside table during a return trip, Jonas goes to grab a pack of cigarettes. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

-

Alex stretches out, shifting in a bit of a - okay, a very obvious - play for his attention. “Oh, I’m well aware of what you’ve done for me, babydoll.” She will poke. She will find the right name to make him snap. One day he will snap and she will feel his wrath, and she’s pretty psyched for it. 

-

Jonas flicks her in the back of the head. It’s what she gets, for calling him so many nicknames in such a short span of time. “And only by the grace of my mercy do you get the shower first, if you so choose, because I’m a gentleman. Seriously, Curaçao. I know your plays by now.”

-

“You’re no fun, you know that?” She smirks, but slides up into a sitting position against the headboard, taking the water and pills. “I see no reason why showering can’t be a group activity.” It’s really mostly teasing. He made good on his end of their arrangement, and despite her claims of insatiability she’s… well, at least for now she’s pretty damn satisfied. Even if she wouldn’t mind a little more cuddling. But cuddling is a fine line. She’s cuddled with friends. Hell, she’s cuddled with _ him_. But she wants to be _ closer_. 

-

“Look, you doomed any chance of having fun around me the minute you called me ‘Supervisor Jonas.’” He pauses, considers for a moment, “-Barring the dancing. The dancing was fun.” Even if that had been more Alex’s achievement than his own. Jonas has to search around for his lighter, and ends up finding it tucked in the pocket of his original pair of jeans— which, no surprise; he nearly always has it on him. 

-

God, Supervisor Jonas. That was… that was ages ago. She barely even remembers that, though distantly she recalls wowing him with her excellent skills behind the bar. 

And _ that _ conjures an image of a whole different set of _ skills _ and— she’s never done it behind a bar before, but hell they both close so it’s totally doable, but—

Right. Right, that’s thinking too far ahead. They’ve barely started this arrangement, and he might still back out. Though, chemistry-wise… well, she’s pretty happy with it. 

“You know, we’re still stuck here a little longer. Until…” God. How long will they be stuck here? Fuck. She shakes her head; they’ll figure it out tomorrow. “I said I’d teach you to dance. And—” Her smile splits into a grin, “—since I am now very aware that you do, indeed, _ fuck… _ and are able to move your _ hips… _ I think we’ve got something to work with.” 

-

“Oh my god.” Nope. Can’t roll his eyes again. Won’t give her the pleasure. Instead he just settles the cigarettes and lighter on the bedside table for later, because Alex is pulling one of her signature moves again, which means he’s probably going to be pleasantly annoyed for the next fifteen to twenty minutes. Though as Jonas is settling on the bed again, he makes another comment. “Still need to teach you how to box at some point then, I guess. That’s gonna be interesting.”

-

He’s closer. She likes him closer. Also: still very naked, and she likes that too, even if she’s starting to feel the sweat on her skin cooling. “I mean, if that’s what it takes for you to teach me a lesson,” she jibes, _ snrk-_ing a little as she nudges his thigh. “Or I can just watch. …I like watching you fight,” she admits, even as she surveys the cuts and bruises over his chest and arms. There’s maybe a little too much affection in her supposedly teasing; “My avenging angel.” 

Alex scoots a little closer, trying to stay casual even as her lips brush his shoulder. “I don’t know if I thanked you for that, by the way.” It’s hard to sound offhanded when she has such sincere gratitude. And she’s never been as good at hiding her feelings as she thinks. “For getting me out of there. For getting _ them _ out of there. For— well, I don’t know what would’ve happened, but… I was a fucking idiot, and if you hadn’t done something…” She sighs a little against his skin. 

There’s a second of pause before she kisses his shoulder again, pulling away. “I guess just thanks.”

-

He wants to relax into her, to allow himself a moment of peace, but she mentions the club fight and he just… he can’t. Even if Alex prefaces it with her gratitude, with an enjoyment of the event - well, maybe not _ enjoyment, _ but an interest - Jonas doesn’t feel any better about the whole thing. He’d gone against morals he’s had in place ever since he’d left the group. Don’t lash out without reason. Don’t just start fighting. Try to come out of things unscathed, keep the lines clear and defined.

But he’d had a reason, hadn’t he? Mike had held a knife up to his throat, he’d been threatened, so— Maybe he can bullshit himself into thinking it’s more okay than it should be. He turns a bit, enough to wrap an arm around her waist and press his face into her hair again. Distractions are good. He shouldn’t be using Alex as one, even if it’s still on his mind and not a distraction at all, but it just makes the feeling worse. Jonas can’t dwell on it right now. He tries for a smile, realizes she can’t see it, and lets it drop. “It’s no problem, Curaçao. Just doing my job.”

-

This is… soft. And she’s starting to feel those little pinpricks in her chest, and that’s really no good. So she has to joke about it. Keep it light. Keep it casual. Got to shift that train onto a different track. 

“…I mean, if you wanna go for a round two…” Fingers tickle at his waist, dipping down toward his hips, because she knows he’ll stop her. He’ll stop her, she’ll laugh it off, the tension will be broken. She’s already got a crooked grin. 

-

His free hand flicks at her wrist, but at least it’s a reminder that he should get out of his head. Like literally everyone keeps telling him. Because he definitely needs to get out of his head far more often than he actually does. “I’m gonna pass on that, seeing as the only reason I’m still living at the moment is because I have a whole bunch of painkillers on board and am currently holding onto a source of warmth.”

-

“A sexy sexy thermal source, I’ll take it.” Alex muses, and resists the urge to nuzzle against him. 

After a second of comforting warmth, her eyes flick to the bedside table and she sighs. “…Look, as much as I hate to see you go, I imagine I’ll love to watch you leave, so… if you need a smoke, go for it.” It’s not so much her thing. Occasionally used to smoke if she was offered one, but to be honest she was more likely to take a smoke from Ren than Clarissa. “I kinda wanna take a shower anyway— which, of course, you’re welcome to join, once you’ve gotten your fix.” He won’t take her up on it. (Though, to be honest, she could probably use the distraction. Shower thoughts don’t always go well for her.) 

It feels like nudity time is coming to a close. Which is maybe good, ‘cause that will cut off the sexual side of things, and a struggle between friendly and romantic is easier than a three way battle. Plus, she’s already decided cuddling is totally fine if it’s friend cuddling. And even if painkillers are helping, she’s ready to let herself be dead tired. A nice hot shower, a fresh change of his clothes, and then sleep. With him. Because even if neither of them has broken down in tears tonight, she’s pretty sure they don’t _ have _ to be broken to sleep in the same bed. 

-

Jonas snorts quietly at her comments - because why else would she make comments if not only to demean him, she’s said that already - the arm around Alex squeezing for just a moment before he’s pulling away. “Thermal sources aside, you’re right about my bad habit. It’s not like I do it regularly, but… still. Y’know how it goes.” 

-

Alex waves him off. “Yeah, yeah— go sate the fixation, angel, don’t let me stop you.” 

-

At least he has the decency to put some boxers on before he goes for a smoke. Because he’s not about to be seen standing near his balcony in the buff. Though once he’s scooped up the lighter and the pack of cigarettes again, he’s quiet in padding out of the room, sticking one between his teeth and cupping a hand over the flame once it’s been kindled so that the slight breeze it gets from walking doesn’t snuff it out. Smoking in his apartment isn’t new, of course, but he at least tries to keep it at the balcony or balcony doors so it doesn’t smell like he’s an addict. If he can even call himself an addict. Jonas isn’t smoking more than… two a day? Three, at most? Still enough to shave a few years off his life. 

That had been the goal, when he started. Now it’s just become an unthinking, anxiety-reducing bad habit.

-

Once he’s gone she drags herself out of bed, stretching, draining the last of her water and then poking around his dresser for the outfit of the night. A small, maybe slightly smug smile flits over her lips as she lazily makes her way to the shower. Her legs still feel shaky and it’s _ good_. The sight of herself in the bathroom mirror is laughable. Kinda a mess. She grins, spotting the little blushing spots on her neck.

The shower is blissful warmth, and Alex sinks against the wall with a long sigh. Shit, she didn’t realize how tired she was. Her head is still vaguely pounding in that oddly gratifying way. It probably takes her longer than is strictly necessary to clean up, but maybe that’s ‘cause she’s still kinda hoping he’ll join. She knows he won’t. Fingers press against the crescent bruises blooming with the heat, rolling over them and smirking at the little zings of pain. Wash all those sins away, she’ll still have the marks. It’s weirdly satisfying. 

When she finally exits the shower she smiles and slips into her lucky find in scavenging his room: the same button-up he’d been wearing when she showed up to take him dancing. It’s a good memory. …That part, anyway. Kinda… bittersweet. It had been mortifying, yeah, but… Maybe it was good. In the most backwards way possible. He’d fed her and clothed her and tended to her wounds and— yeah. That was when they became friends for real. Or. Whatever they are. Friends, right. 

So maybe she should actually wear pants to sleep, okay fine.

-

Jonas only has one cigarette, though he takes his time. No need to get even with himself right now, despite the desire to, and once he’s finished he goes to gather up a fresh pair of pants and a towel. Alex is out by now— he spots her rooting around his drawers as he comes in, and it’s an instinct for him to lean over and drop a kiss onto the crown of her head when he passes by. (A really stupid instinct. Can’t say he regrets it, but still. He should know better. This was just a sex thing. It’s only _ going _ to be a sex thing. Fuck.)

Then he notices the shirt. It’s the flannel he only ever wears every once in a while, and the same one he’d had on when they were playing pool. Just before the dancing. He can’t help but smile, head tipping to the side a bit when he moves, still on his way to take a shower. “Guess that’s a favorite. Noted.”

(Why should that be noted? Why is he noting that?)

(He knows why he’s noting it. He’s in love with her. He’s been in love with her. Like an idiot.)

-

There are boundaries she shouldn’t cross. Alex is beginning to realize they’re a lot less clear than she’d originally thought. If she’d _ thought _ at all. Too often she’s more of an _ act first, think later _ kind of person. She can rationalize a lot under the category of ‘friend things.’ Ren has… _ probably _ kissed her on the head before, right? Sure. Friend affection. 

She’s blushing - and trying to ignore that fact, face hidden in the shadow of her hair as she pulls up borrowed gym shorts - a rueful smile curving her lips as she shakes her head. Ugh. Less thinking. Go to sleep. She doesn’t even have the time to come up with a snappy quip - or maybe she doesn’t have the focus - before he’s already out of the room. Alex closes her eyes and lets her brain fuzz out to white noise as she tumbles onto the bed again. 

She passes out shockingly quickly while he’s in the shower, still sprawled out over his sheets, swimming in too-big shorts and a half-buttoned shirt large enough for her to wear as a dress. He was right: it is a favorite. And whenever she ends up leaving this apartment, it will be coming with her whether he’s aware of that fact or not.

-

The shower takes longer than it probably should. Of course he has to scrub the smell of smoke off of himself - among other things - but he’s not really focused on that. He hasn’t been focused for a good while now. Mostly because his mind has been drifting to things now considered acceptable, but only if he worms his way around his own reasoning, if he tries to find meaning in gestures that aren’t really there. Jonas isn’t sure he'll be keeping that promise of honesty for long. Hell, he already isn’t, because he’s in love with her and he isn’t saying anything because he’s a stupid fucking masochist and doesn’t know any better. The same thing he did with Logan— except there was a whole lot less fuck buddies mixed in.

When the water goes from scalding to lukewarm, he finally steps out. It’s a slow process to dry out his hair with a towel, pull on clean clothes (which are basically just underwear and another pair of sweats, since he isn’t going to be doing anything else tonight) and walk out, but at least he has the coordination to do that much. Alex is already asleep when he gets back, which is to be expected, but she could at least have the decency to get _ under _ the covers first. Because of course she didn’t. Jonas tugs them out from under her, trying not to wake her up, and then lays them back over her shoulders before settling on his side near her. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” A hand cards through her hair, and he knows he’s probably smiling for no reason, but she just… Alex does that, to him. Makes him happy for no reason. “You know that, right? You’re gonna kill me one day and I’m not even gonna be mad about it. How could I? You— …Jesus, Curaçao, you’re not even awake. Fuckin’ don’t mind me, waxing poetic like a damn fool.”

-

Somewhere in the depths of dozing Alex picks up on movement and sound and rolls over, reaching out a hand, patting mindlessly toward the noise. “Shhhhshshh.” Its more breath than purposeful noise. Finally her hand finds something like a nose, a mouth, and her fingers make a weak sorta pinching motion. “Ssslep.”

-

Jonas rolls his eyes at her, tugging his head away from Alex’s gripping hands with a rueful smile. “Alright, alright. Sleep.” She’s going to be the death of him. He’s already said it, but it just goes double in his mind, when he wraps his arms around her torso and tucks himself as close as he can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, we always must have that tiny bit of bittersweet in there… hmm. 
> 
> Anyway, thoughts? As always thanks for reading, feel free to drop a comment. We don't have a ton written beyond this, and that's mostly on me (Turner), but seeing feedback is always encouraging, especially while I'm still in the midst of the ever imposing Personal Problems. Thanks for stickin' with us!  
-Turner

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! All interactions with our fic are appreciated, but reactions via comments may be our (okay, well, Turner's) favorite. So please leave a comment! What worked, what didn't, what you're curious to see, your favorite moment or line from the chapter: whatever you want! Or just leave a keysmash or an emoji or two. Make us really work to interpret, if you're feeling cryptic. Basically, we love interaction! So shoot us a comment. ❤

**Works inspired by this one:**

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